


Are You Listening

by ImagineCharlotte



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anxiety Attacks, Bromance to Romance, Inspired by Music, M/M, Slice of Life, Smut, Social Anxiety, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, child shingenshina trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineCharlotte/pseuds/ImagineCharlotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco posts and ad for a roommate, not expecting much feedback. One month later he's sharing his apartment with the unconventional spitfire Jean who, literally, is from the other side of the tracks. The two hit it off instantly, but to keep things mutual they make just one rule; keep it a roommate relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Room Available, fully furnished**

**Upper West Side, Trost**

**Price: $300/mnth**

**Personal Info: Male, 22**

 

“Aaaaand post.”

Marco leaned back in his chair and watched the computer screen load to a new page. He reread the advertisement he posted and wondered if it was too vague. He attached a few photos of the apartment and it's overlooking view of the city of Trost, so he didn't find it necessary to go into details. Initially, he decided that keeping it as simple as possible would be for the best. That way, more people would respond to the ad, thus Marco would have more options (although, yes, there would always be creepers) to choose his roommate from. However, the moment he hit 'post' he felt a twinge of regret. Marco never had a roommate before, and he felt slightly apprehensive about the whole idea. It's not like he needed one, after all, but why not put the extra space to use? Marco sighed and closed his laptop before heading to the kitchen to make himself coffee. It was only 10 am on a Saturday morning, but he was exhausted. Sleep never came easy to him, but when he finally did fall asleep he sure didn't wake up that early.

After dousing the bitter liquid with cream and sugar, he made his way into the living room and plopped down onto the couch, flicking the T.V on just in time for his favorite Saturday morning cartoons. _Another boring Saturday_ , he sunk further into the cushion, barely moving the mug away from his face. About 8 episodes in, the phone rang. Marco let it ring a few times, too lax to make an effort to move, before sitting up with a grunt. He snatched the phone off of the ringer and stared down at the caller I.D. _An unknown number._ He thought a little harder, then remembered that it could be someone answering the ad. “Oh!” He quickly hit 'answer' and practically punched his ear with the receiver. “Hello, Marco Bodt speaking.”

“Yeah, I saw your ad about the bedroom you have available.”

“Ah, yes!” He switched the phone to his other ear, steadying it between his shoulder and ear while he grabbed a pen and paper. “I'd like to ask you a few questions if-”

“It's alright if my girlfriend moves in too, yeah? I mean we get a little loud, so-”

Marco hung up the phone, tossing it onto the couch before returning to his former lazy-morning position. _Prank call_. He shook his head of the ridiculousness of what he just heard and un-paused the television. Minutes later the phone rang again. For the next two hours he received both ludicrous and dull calls from too many people to count. He did receive a few civilized calls from people he would consider, however Marco ultimately decided to leave his phone off of the hook for the rest of the day.

“What a bad idea.” He grumbled, roughly scratching at his already tousled  hair.

A couple of weeks passed and the phone calls died down to maybe once a week. Smelling of puppy breath, wet fur, and whatever other smells dogs can emit, Marco peeled his clothes off before stepping into the steaming shower. Volunteering at a pound was something he always wanted to do. It seemed only natural to him with his love of animals. He sighed when he noticed little red marks on his forearms and ankles left from where puppies had decided to use him as a teething instrument. He smiled at the thought of how they followed him around as if he was their mother, and how every time he stopped, they would swarm around him. Marco's mental recap of the day was cut short when he heard the faint ringing of the phone from the hallway. Stepping out of the shower, he draped a towel around himself and picked up the phone. _Another unknown number_. Marco clicked the answer button, hesitantly holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Marco Bodt speaking.”

“Yo.”

Marco looked at the phone as if he could see who was on the other end if he stared long enough. _Do I know this person?_ He quickly held the phone back up to his ear when he heard whoever was on the other line continue to speak.

“I'm calling about the room ad you posted. Is it still up for grabs?” he sounded almost bored, his tone flat.

“Yeah, it is.” Marco responded slowly. The other line went silent and Marco realized he should say something else. “If you're up for it, I'd like to ask you a few questions, and then we can go from there.” Cold droplets of water dripped from Marco's wet hair onto his shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine. He had to keep the call short so that he could return to the sauna that was his shower.

“Shoot.” His tone changed, a hint of cockiness sliding in.

“Okay... Let's start with the basics. Like your name, age, and where you're from?”

“The name's Jean Kirschtein. 21, and from East Trost.”

Marco's ear perked at the sound of his name. It was different. He liked it. He didn't acknowledge on the interviewee being from a lower class area. “Oh, that’s good. We're around the same age. What do you do for a living?”

“.....”

Marco checked the caller I.D to see if he accidentally hung up.

 “Random stuff here and there.”

Marco didn’t say anything, not sure what to make of that.

 “Nothing illegal if that's what you're worried about.” Jean said the last part snidely.

“Oh, no, not at all.” Marco waved his hand in a defensive manner, almost dropping his towel. He mentally kicked himself for asking that last question. _He probably thinks I think he's a drug dealer or something._  “So far you sound like an okay guy. I'd like to meet you in person somewhere nearby. You know that coffee shop downtown, Caffeine?”

“I've heard of it.”

“I'll see you there Sunday at, say, three?”

 “You got it.”

 The line went dead and Marco hung up the phone. He let out a long sigh he had been holding and smiled to himself. Jean may have sounded like an average arrogant 21 year old, but Marco had a good feeling about this one. He jogged back into the bathroom to wash the remaining dog drool from his hair.

Slow acoustic rock and the scent of freshly ground beans flowed throughout the cafe. Marco sat at a table in the far back corner by a window to ensure at least some privacy for his impending interview. He sipped his third coffee of the hour slowly, absentmindedly skimming down a web page on his laptop. It was a site about common questions to ask possible new roommates. Marco glanced up at the door as people walked in and out. _I wonder how he'd react if I asked to run a background check_. He snorted and returned his gaze to the screen _. I don't think that would go over well with anyone_. His eyes trailed over to the corner of the screen. It was 2:50pm, and Marco's nerves were beginning to sink in.  _What if he really is a drug dealer, though or ...a free loader? No, no, Marco, stay open-minded_.

The bell on the cafe door rang and Marco's eyes instantly met with two tawny ones. The boy who entered stood out among the others. Other than the slight scowl on his face, he wore a dark green beanie, which somehow went perfectly with his bright yellow plaid shirt and red converse, but Marco could still see that his hair was two different colors; a sandy blonde on top, dark brown underneath. He also noted the small gauges in both his ears as he approached the table. As unconventional as he was, Marco couldn't help but gape at how damn cool this guy looked.

“You Marco?” he said, eyebrow rising.

Marco realized he was staring and blinked, holding his hand out, “Yeah. Jean, right?”

 

 Jean nodded and sat down across from him. Marco offered him a coffee, to which Jean quickly accepted. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, sipping the strong brew. Jean was the first to break the silence. “So why such a low price for an apartment in this part of Trost? I remembering the ad saying it was just you, yeah?”

Marco nodded and smiled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, it's just me right now. Hm...How do I put it? I have an extra room, and it makes sense to have someone to fill the space.” He looked up at Jean, whose lips had turned down slightly.

Jean's scowl broke and he let out a sharp laugh. “Good enough reason for me.” He slung his arm back to rest on the back of the chair, a smug smirk on his lips. “I mean, who am I to turn down such a great offer?” he grinned. “Anyway, I'm sure you've got some questions about me?” He lazily motioned his hand to point at the laptop in front of Marco. “I don't have a problem with a background check.”

Marco stared at Jean with both shock and confusion. Jean laughed, pointing from the laptop to its reflection on the window next to them. Marco slapped the laptop shut with a soft apology, and his face burned brighter than ever. “That won't be necessary. I, uh...I mean you could just tell me a little about yourself. Do you have any hobbies?”

Jean took a long sip of his plain coffee before setting it down and humming in thought. “Not really. I play at cafes similar to this some nights, but, you know, a different crowd.” He watched as Marco's bourbon eyes lit up and felt a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. “That hardly counts as a hobby, though. What about you, what do you do?”

The turn-around caught Marco off guard, “Oh, I...well...” He glanced down when Jean leaned in a bit. “I volunteer at a local pound most evenings.” He raised his gaze back up to Jean. “You're not allergic to dogs, are you?”

Jean shook his head. “Nah, I had a couple of dogs when I was a kid. They're great to have around.” Marco nodded, eyes beginning to beam again. “But doesn't volunteering evenings get in the way of your job?”

Marco shrugged and gave a sideways glance out the window. “I don't exactly have a set job.” On weekdays he would babysit the neighbor's kids but Marco didn't feel 'job' was the right word for that. He felt panic when he saw the scowl slightly return to Jean's face. _Dammit, Marco, stop making yourself sound like such an ass._ “It's a little complicated.” he sighed, shoulders slumping.

 “You mean you're parents pay for everything or something like that?” Jean said flatly.

 Marco tensed up again. “You could say that...”

Jean snorted, which took Marco back for a second. “Don't you think they get tired of paying for their adult son?”

Now Jean was surprised when Marco let out a breathy laugh. “I don't know. It was in their will, so...” his voice trailed off.

“Ah, shit,” Jean cursed through his teeth and sat back in his chair. “I'm sorry, man. That's rough.”

Marco shrugged it off and gave Jean a forgiving smile. He was upset with himself for blurting that out, but then realized that throughout their whole conversation, Jean didn't seem to bother censoring himself. He didn't seem to think twice about whether or not his manner was off-putting. Jean was being himself.

“The room is already furnished, but I'd appreciate a heads up as to when you'd like to move in.”

Jean nearly choked on his coffee, “Wait, are you serious?”

“That's why we're here, isn't it?”

“Uh, yeah. Damn, I wasn't expecting such a quick answer.” Jean chuckled and held out his hand, which Marco took into a handshake. “How's Thursday sound?”

“Thursday it is.”

The two stayed in the coffee shop for a while longer, and they turned out to be pretty compatible. Marco was a kind-hearted, slightly cookie-cutter upper Trost college graduate, and Jean was a spitfire who chose to pursue a more artistic path in life. Because of his rocky relationship with his parents, Jean left home early and avoided any interaction with them. The remaining of Marco's family lived in Belgium.

Before the two parted, they made sure to exchange numbers. As they walked outside they said their farewells and Marco turned to see Jean get into an older model Corvette. It wasn't in top shape but it seemed that, because it just fit the whole look, it was visually appealing. Marco turned back, hand rising up in front of his face in attempt to hide his crimson face. He mentally kicked himself repeatedly for practically flailing over his new roommate. _Get yourself together, Marco. You can be cool at times, too_. He nodded to himself just before tripping on the tiniest of rocks, just barely having to stumble to catch himself before falling and breaking his face in public.

 

 

Marco was going through his weekly agenda when the doorbell rang.  He opened the door, and a warm smile formed on his lips when he saw Jean standing on his front steps. He was looking to the right, his brows furrowed, and a toothpick moving up and down between his lips. He turned his attention to Marco and nodded, the corners of his lips curving up in a partial smirk.

“Hey.” Jean said, cocking his head towards the house to his right. “You've got some sketchy neighbors.”

Marco leaned outside and looked over. He noticed the blinds rattle shut and a light turn off. He gave Jean and apologetic smile and motioned for him to enter, helping bring in his luggage. “Sorry about that. They like to think that neighborhood watch is an extreme sport or something.” Marco forced a laugh. “You should have seen them this time I ordered pizza from this new place. It was like th-”

“Marco, chill out.” Jean's smirk broadened. “I'm fully aware that I don't quite fit the mold here.” Marco looked down and thought to say something to repair the awkwardness that transpired, but Jean spoke again. “This is an apartment? Looks more like a house.” He was scanning the visible rooms from ceiling to floor.

Marco chuckled. “Let me show you around.” The two brought his suitcases into the vacant bedroom. Marco flipped the light switch on, and he could have sworn he heard Jean suck in a small gasp. The room _was_ huge, after all. From the high ceiling to the wall of glass with a balcony overlooking Trost, the bed almost overtaken with pillows to the deep set closet and cubby-like area with a computer desk, Jean didn't know what to explore first.

“Well, shit.” Was all he could muster.

“Good, you like it.” Marco gave a soft laugh. “Come on, there's still the rest of the place to show you.”

Jean suppressed as many 'oh's and 'ah's as he could during the tour. It was like something out of a home decorating magazine. Both Marco's room (which was two doors down from Jean's) and the living room shared the same glass wall as Jean's bedroom. The apartment was set just on the outskirts of the city on a large cliff with few other houses and large apartments. When the tour was over, Jean thanked his new roommate and returned to his room to unpack.

With no idea as to how he would make a dent in the closet, Jean began with loading his clothing in a dresser in the closet. Only half way through unpacking Jean made his way over to the bed and sprawled out, the faint smell of lavender detergent lingering on the sheets. He tilted his head back to look out at the view. He stood up and walked to the glass door, opening it to step out onto the balcony. Jean was immediately hit with the cool summer night breeze, a smile sliding across his lips. He looked up to see a clear, star filled sky. He couldn't fathom how many were possibly be up there.

“Jean?”

He turned at the muffled sound of his name, followed by a knock. “Come on in, Marco.”

The door opened and Marco chuckled at the sight of Jean's belongings strewn everywhere. “I made us some dinner, if you want to take a break from unpacking.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Jean drank in the view one more time before heading in.

 

 

Jean had been living with him for a couple of months, and Marco didn't feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as he was expecting. There were still moments here and there. For example, on Jean's second week, he had walked into the shared bathroom unannounced. Luckily, Marco was only brushing his teeth. Shortly after that they picked up the whole 'knock-first' system. Because of their work schedules, the two rarely saw each other in the morning or afternoons, and occasionally on weekends. Marco found out that Jean did, in fact, have a job, which was in graphic design. When Marco asked who he designed for a few days earlier, Jean shot the question down almost immediately. Marco didn't ask again.

It was Friday night and the two were having dinner together, which had become their daily routine, and were going over bits and pieces of their day and random topics. Shortly after, Jean made himself public-presentable, reminding Marco that he had a gig at a cafe that night.

“It's nothing special, but I don't mind you coming if you want to check it out.” Jean said with a shrug, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder.

Marco's eyes widened a bit. _He's inviting me to watch him play?_ The words spilled out of his mouth before he could even think of the sentence he was trying to form, “Yes, of course! That would be great!” _I was supposed to stop at 'of course._ “I've wanted to hear you play since you told me, but, you know, I didn't want to impose because some people are kind of private about that sort of thing.” _What is this sudden word vomit?_ He watched Jean's expression change from surprised, to confused, which then mix with some horror.   _Shhhhhut up, Marco._ “Plus we just met when you told me so that would be a little intrusive as well. B-but I don't want you to invite me if you don't really want me to come, hahaha-oh, god Jean help me out here.” Marco's tone lowered exponentially with his plea.

Jean stared at him for a few seconds before bursting into gut-wrenching laughter. “Calm down, dude. It's fine with me. I usually play at around 9, but you can come sooner if you want. You know, to get a vibe of the place.” Jean turned to the door and grasped the handle, then stopped. “Oh, and Marco?” Jean turned on his heels and strode over to Marco, roughly placing a hand on each of his shoulders. “You don't have to look so embarrassed. I get that sort of reaction all the time, with my being a star and everything.” Marco nodded as Jean smirked and turned back to the door, adjusting the strap of the guitar case on his shoulder. “See ya later.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you solve your own issues when part of those issues involves fooling yourself? You may never know if you’re truly coming to terms with your troubles, or if you’re just fooling yourself into thinking so.

 

The cafe was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the candles on the many small round tables, all occupied by couples or small groups. The back wall was taken up by a wide, low set stage. It was lit up with a ground level spotlight light that slowly shifted colors. The room was filled with low murmurs of conversation and laughter, mixed with the tuning of guitar strings and sound checks.

On the other side of the room, Marco sat at a table with a very tall brunette. He and Marco had attended the same college and shared a lot of the same classes. Bertholdt was one of the few friends Marco had stayed in contact with after graduation. They were deep in conversation about some aspect of the Boston Tea Party when a bulky blonde returned to the table with drinks. Reiner was another friend of Marco's, and he was also Bertholdt's high school sweetheart. The two couldn't be more opposite, but that was something that kept their bond so strong. Reiner sat off to the side, fully engaged in some mindless bird game on his phone instead of feigning interest in the two brunettes' conversation.

The audience hushed when the clicking of drumsticks caught everyone’s attention, signaling the start of a song. Bertholdt grabbed Reiner's phone and gave him a stern look as he placed it in his back pocket, turning Reiner into a distraught child. 'You can have it back later', he mouthed and Reiner clicked his tongue. Marco chuckled softly and turned his attention back to the band playing. As the song was coming to the bridge, he glanced around the room. To the far left of the stage stood Jean. He was talking to someone who'd been assisting with the sound check earlier. Marco turned to Bertholdt, who was slightly hunched forward, already in position to whisper something to him.

“Is that him?” The tall brunette asked, his eyes focused on Jean. Marco nodded. “Does he have a brother-ow!” Bertholdt jumped in his seat when Reiner poked him not-so-playfully in the ribs. “I was kidding!” he whispered harshly.

Reiner let a sharp huff through his nose and eyed his boyfriend, who leaned over and whispered something in his ear. They exchanged smiles and a nod. The room went into a round of applause when the band ended their song, to which they nodded or waved and exited the stage. Marco felt his heart pick up its pace when Jean walked up on stage. He wasn't sure if he was feeling anxious or nervous, but for whatever reason he didn't know why  _he_  was the one feeling it. Jean pulled up a stool and took a seat, positioning his guitar on his lap. The one shade-shifting light focused on the stage narrowed onto Jean, the color settling on a deep yellow.

As Marco took a deep breath, he noticed Jean do the same before letting out a sharp sigh. His fingers glided down the strings as he began to strum a tune. A few people in the audience shouted as he tuned the strings, some saying his name, other random 'woos'. Jean's eyes rose to the audience, glancing down at his moving fingers every few seconds. The music started slow, Jean slapping the strings every few chords, gradually adding a few more, strengthening the beat. Marco was caught off guard when gold eyes met his, and just as he felt his face heat up, Jean opened his mouth and began singing.

 

_In a dark room_

_In cold sheets_

_I can’t feel_

_A damn thing_

 

More individual cheers came from the audience. Marco could see the smirk on Jean's face from across the room, and even when his accompanying friends glanced back and forth between them, he and Jean would not break eye contact. He strummed the strings harder as he sang, his foot tapping and it was like he was using his whole body to make music. Marco couldn't help but grin and let out a soft laugh.

 

_Oh, the habits of my heart_

_I can’t say no_

_It’s ripping me apart_

_You get too close_

_You make it hard to let you go_

 

The room vibrated as everyone roared and cheered. Jean nodded in thanks and exited the stage. He disappeared for a few moments, and music began playing from the speakers of the cafe, the chatter of people starting up again. Marco turned to his friends, who looked just as pleased as the rest of the people in the room.

“Your boyfriend is really good.” Reiner commented nonchalantly, reaching into Bertholdt's pocket for his phone, earning himself an elbow in the side.

“Yeah, he-Wait, what?” Marco craned his neck to question the blonde two seats away.

“I said your bro friend is good.” The blonde choked out.

Bertholdt turned to Marco with a soft smile. “He seems really popular here.” His sage eyes glanced beside Marco. “Ah, here he comes now.”

Jean ran up the steps to Marco's table, his usual cocky smirk on his face. He took it upon himself to introduce himself to Reiner and Bertholdt, shaking both their hands. “So, what'd ya think?”

“You were great! I didn't know you could sing, too.” Marco beamed.

Jean snickered and gave a small shrug, taking a seat next to Marco. “Thanks, man.”

“It was very impressive.” Bertholdt added, “We have a friend, her name is Annie, and she works at a music studio not far from here. You wouldn't mind if I had her come down and check this spot out, would you?”

Jean's eyes widened for a moment and he glanced at Marco, who nodded. He gave Bertholdt a considerate nod. “Yeah, sure. That'd be cool.”

Reiner glanced down at his watch before placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. “Great, we'll contact her fist thing tomorrow, but the night is young and we've got to run.” He said with a smile as he and Bertholdt stood and shook Jean's hand again.

“Sorry we couldn't stay longer. It was nice to meet you, Jean.” Bertholdt waved goodbye as they walked off.

Marco turned back to Jean, who took a seat in one of the vacant chairs. “I like your friends. They seem like good people.”

“Thanks, they are.” Marco nodded and looked down at his drink, watching the ice hit the glass as he swirled it around.

They sat and watched as three more bands and singers performed, commenting every now and then on the shows. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jean shifting in his seat. He would sit still for a moment, then shuffle around again, then let out a sharp sigh. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Marco lifted his head to Jean, who looked less than comfortable. “Oh, yeah that's fine. Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine.” Jean's eyes darted around the room.

Marco decided not to ask what was wrong just yet. He stood from his seat and was practically dragged out and onto the street, Jean's grip on the freckled boy's arm seemed like it only tightened as he turned down the street, practically sprinting. Marco continued to stay silent, mostly out of confusion. They walked into a nearby park, the walkway visible under the lanterns. Jean finally slowed his pace but his hand stayed locked onto Marco. Marco could hear his quick breaths as they continued to walk. After they'd ventured half way into the park, Marco spoke up.

“Jean?” Marco asked softly, unable to see Jean's face as he walked ahead of him. “Jean, are you sure you're okay?”

When he didn't answer, Marco reached up and put his hand on the one that was surely leaving a bruise on him. Jean suddenly turned and came to a halt, Marco crashing into him head on. He lowered his eyes to Jean's and took a step back when he saw his expression. His eyes were burning with a bizarre mixture of confusion, anger, and what looked like…. _Like a frightened animal._ Without hesitating, and to his own surprise, Marco pulled him into a tight embrace. Jean let his arms dangle at his sides as he leaned into him, taking a deep breath and sighing. Marco forgot how strong he could be until he heard a wheezy breath from Jean.

“Marco.” Jean's voice was flat, muffled by Marco's shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I can't breathe.”

“Oh!” Marco released him and stepped away with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just thought you, uh, I don’t know.” _That_ _probably wasn’t the right way to comfort someone._ His smile faded when he saw Jean's expression. It wasn't his usual smirk, but the scowl this time. “Jean...what happened back there?”

“Ch.” Jean turned away, his hands resting roughly on his hips. “As if I'd tell you.”

Marco his brows furrowed together. He thought he at least had some right to know after being dragged like a rag doll for half an hour. His eyes lowered to the ground, face still twisted in frustration. He felt like he was talking to the children he babysat.

Jean released another sigh. “Hey, sorry about that. I just...can I tell you some other time?” His face read that he was struggling with both the right words and keeping his emotions in check.

Marco tilted his head with a warming smile. “Of course. Let's go home.”

* * *

 

 

Jean nodded and placed his hands in his pockets as he followed Marco, his gaze following the shoes that walked ahead of him. He didn't speak much on the way home, even as Marco initiated short conversations. Instead, he thought. He wondered how hard he was clutching his freckled friend’s arm, if he hurt him, if he scared him. He wondered if Marco felt his racing heart when he held him, if he noticed when he breathed in the scent of his hair and clothes. He wondered if saying 'home' meant the same to Marco as it did to him. He wondered when exactly he started feeling so peculiar towards his roommate.

His eyes trailed up from Marco's shoes to his legs, to his ass, then to his broad shoulders. Along with the humid summer night, he could feel the slight blood rush to his cheeks. Marco mesmerized him, and his eyes were stuck like glue. And then it happened. An unexpected, and vivid, thought placed itself perfectly at the forefront of Jean's mind.

 

_He was pressing Marco into the couch, nipping and sucking at the freckles that littered his neck. Marco's head was tilted back, his mouth open in a silent moan as Jean ground their hips together. He used one hand to pin Marco's wrists above his head, the other trailing down his exposed body and giving his ass a tight squeeze._

_Marco groaned his name, and it made his cock twitch. He brought his hand to Marco's face, lightly pressing two fingers to his lips. Marco greedily took them in his mouth, sucking and lathering them with his saliva. Jean released Marco's pinned hands and used his now free hand to prop Marco's legs on his shoulders as he sat up. Jean slowly lowered his hand and circled his entrance with his fingertips. The brunette whimpered when one finger slid inside. His hips moved with the pumping of the intruding finger. Jean's lips connected with Marco's, and he kissed him hungrily; sucking his lower lip and slid his tongue into the other boy's mouth._

_“Jean..” Marco keened, muffled by the kiss, his running his fingers through Jean's hair. Jean pulled his finger out to the tip before adding another. “Jean?” His voice wasn't so lustful that time._

 

Jean was violently ripped from his fantasy when he collided into Marco’s back. He blinked away his daydream to see Marco was looking over his shoulder as he waited for a response. Jean blinked stupidly.  _The fuck was he talking about?_ He muttered a quick 'yeah' before Marco turned back.

 

 

When they returned to the apartment, Jean rushed passed Marco, uttering an incoherent sentence about needing a shower. After locking the door behind him, Jean pressed his back against it and held his face in his hands. “Fucking hell, get your shit together, Jean.” he muttered into his palms.

He ran his hands up his face and through his hair as he made his way over to the shower and leaned in.  _He's your roommate,_  he reasoned as he turned the knob and watched the water spray from the shower head.  _You've known him for what, two months?_ Jean didn't realize he'd been sweating until he peeled his clothes off. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water hit his head first, then run down his body. _I doubt he even likes guys._  He thought, chiding himself for feeling so disappointed. His hands moved up his abdomen and around the back of his neck, one hand trailing back down and wrapping around his swelling cock.

“To hell with it.” He leaned forward and rested his head against the shower wall, the water sliding his back. Jean closed his eyes and stroked himself, picking up his daydream from where it left off.

 

_Marco rolled his hips up into Jean’s, moaning into the heated kiss. Jean slid his fingers out to the tips before thrusting them in, down to his knuckles. Marco cried out as he curled and scissored his fingers inside of him. Jean chuckled and left a trail of kisses from Marco's lips down his jaw and to his ear, where he nibbled at the lobe._

_“You like that?”_

_Suddenly Marco's hips bucked, almost throwing Jean off balance. He knew he'd found his sweet spot. “J-Jean...that...ungh.” Marco choked out the words through whimpers and moans._

_Jean dragged his fingers against Marco's prostate again and again, sending him into a frenzied and sputtering mess. He pulled his fingers out, and before Marco could protest against the lack of contact, Jean slicked himself with his precum and pushed the tip of his cock in. Jean slowly slid himself all the way into Marco and waited for him to relax, which didn’t take long. Marco dug his nails into Jean's back, pulling him in close._

_“Go,” Marco groaned._

_Jean nodded and pulled out before thrusting back in. Marco cried out again and again as Jean hit his prostate, prompting him to go faster. Jean hungrily planted his lips on Marco's as he pounded into him._

_“Jean, I-I'm gonna...” Marco wrapped his arms around Jean's neck, pulling him down, moaning into his ear. Jean's thrusts became quick and erratic. Marco arched, crying out Jean’s name as he fucked the brunette through his orgasm, hot ribbons of cum spurting onto their abdomens. The clamping around his cock sent Jean over the edge as he came so hard he thought he might go blind._

 

Jean's breathing was quick, one hand on the wall, holding himself up, the other stilled wrapped around his softening cock. He opened his eyes and stood up slowly, letting the water wash away the evidence.

 

 

Marco turned, peeking over the couch when Jean came down the hall. His little shower escapade barely left him satisfied. He felt miserable, and he sure he looked it, too. His shoulders slumped, feet dragging along. The last thing he needed was to see Marco's face. _That’s one of the downfalls of living with the object of your perverted mind._

“Did the zombie apocalypse started already?” Marco chuckled and Jean shot him a halfhearted glare as he took a sharp left and entered the kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge, then shuffled into the living room. He sat far on the other end of the couch, trying to keep his distance but not seem too obvious. “I made popcorn.” Marco said, placing a large bowl between them. “Hope you like extra butter.”

Jean looked down, not at the bowl, but at the couch. He stared at it as if his fantasy had actually happened right where they sat. He sighed as heat threatened to take over his face. In a halfwit plan to hide the sofa from his own gaze, he shuffled over towards the middle and stretched his legs out across the other cushions. The television darkened for a moment before lighting up again as the show returned from commercial break, its loud obnoxious music playing along with the cheer of the audience on set. Jean snorted and grabbed a few pieces of popcorn. It took everything in him to keep his eyes off of the other boy. He feared that one more look at his freckled face and he'd be on Marco like white on rice. Giving a mental shrug, Jean figured he could top the boy another, in a gamely, not a sexual way.

“Marco,” he waited for the brunette to look over at him, keeping his own gaze on the screen. “This is that show with random questions where people win money when answered correctly.”

It took Marco a moment to process what Jean meant before responding with a soft laugh. “Is this Jeopardy?” Jean nodded and Marco looked back at the screen, an unspoken competition beginning between the two. They called out a question when they knew it, and stayed silent when they didn't. Half way through the show, the score was 7:5, Jean taking the lead. Jean sipped his soda, stealing his first glance at Marco since he entered the room. Marco's eyes were fixed on the T.V, chestnut eyes narrowed with concentration.

“The category is: Poetry.” Announced the host, “This sonnet by Jamaican-born writer Claude McKay had a powerful impact when written in 1919.”

“'If We Must Die'.” Jean said flatly, finishing his drink. “8 to 5.” From the corner of his eye he could see Marco lean towards him.

“You read poetry?”

“I read a lot of things.” Jean shrugged.

“Like what else?” He glanced over at Marco, who was looking at him with sparkling eyes.

Jean couldn't avert his gaze faster. He racked his brain for a moment, then blurt out the first line to come to his mind, “If certain when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I'd toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity.” He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of all things to think of, he recited a poem about unrequited love.  _It isn't like I'm in love though_.  _It's just lust or something weird like that_.

“Who is Emily Dickinson?” Marco stated more than asked, earning a nod from Jean.

“These are set by people to ensure home comforts.” Jean said, sighing deeply before turning to see Marco, staring at him with brows furrowed intensity in his gaze. He hoped Marco would make it easy for him and guess the correct answer. He did, but not the way Jean would have preferred.

“Rules and Regulations?” Jean shrugged. Marco slightly frowned. “Where'd that come from?”

Jean stood up and grabbed the empty bowl and Marco's finished tea mug before heading into the kitchen. He felt his jaw tense when he heard footsteps behind him. Jean placed the dishes in the sink and ran the water hot over them.

“I don't follow.” Marco sounded annoyed, but when Jean looked at him he appeared genuinely confused. “Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

 _If you consider being so fucking attractive a problem, then yes. Hell. Yes._ “No, Marco it was just a game question.” Jean looked down into the water pooling in the bowl and picked up a sponge, drenching it with soap.

“That's such bull!” If it wasn't for the circumstances, Jean would have snorted at Marco's inability to swear. “If this- oh my god, will you stop doing dishes for five seconds? They aren't even yours.” he huffed. Jean complied and set the dishes down, keeping his back to Marco. The brunette stepped into the kitchen, joining Jean by the sink and tilting his head before he continued, “Jean, listen. If this has anything to do with earlier tonight-”

“It doesn't.” Jean lied. It didn't have to do with his minor freak-out as much as how Marco made him feel downstairs. “I just...” he looked over into Marco's big, insistent eyes and felt a pang of guilt in his gut.  _It's not like he knows what my deal is..._  “I just think that, as roommates, we should set some boundaries so neither of us gets our panties in a bunch, you know?”

Marco frowned again and cocked his head to the side, his eyes trailing to the counter top then darting back to Jean. “So...why didn't you just say so?”

“I don't know if you've realized this yet, but I don't exactly have a way with words.” Jean decided it was safe to continue the dishes. Marco grabbed a cloth to dry them.

“So what kind of boundaries are we talking about?” Marco asked lightheartedly, taking the bowl from Jean.

“General stuff, I guess. You stay out of my underwear drawer, I stay out of yours.” He smiled to himself when Marco chuckled.  _Good save, Jean._  “I guess my main concern is doing something that could make the whole roommate situation uncomfortable, you know?”

Marco hummed, tilting his head back in thought, giving Jean a glimpse of his throat. Jean thought of the marks he left on that neck in his fantasy. “You mean like getting too much into each other’s' business, right?”

“Yes!” Jean said a little too loudly with a sharp laugh, which startled Marco.

“Right.” Marco nodded and took the next dish from Jean. He paused for another moment. “Well that's a relief. How bad would that be? Two angry roommates.” He laughed. “Good talk, man.” Marco gave Jean's shoulder a rough pat and he walked off. “I'm off to bed. Later!”

“Yeah.” Jean chuckled. Inside he felt his stomach churn.  _Shouldn't I be glad it went this well?_

* * *

 

 

For the next few days following Jean’s cafe performance, Marco couldn't help but notice Jean was avoiding him. He would quickly drop any conversation Marco initiated, he'd practically power-walk out of the room, averted his eyes when they made contact, or just stay out of the apartment altogether. One the night when Jean returned from work, Marco was in the kitchen, and so it was inevitable for the two to run into each other. Marco decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and give him the cold shoulder. He kept his back to the door, slowly cutting up an assortment of vegetables on the countertop.

Jean showed no sign of acknowledgment as he retreated to his room. Marco was pissed, bitterly running his tongue across his teeth. He let out a low grumble and let his aggression out on the poor unsuspecting vegetables. He froze when he heard a door the hall open.  _Just ignore him. Ignore, ignore, ignorrrre._  He sighed deeply, trying to block out the footsteps that approached him from behind. He turned on his heel to see Jean standing less than a foot away.

“Oh, I'm sorry, do you suddenly need something?” Marco snapped, almost surprised at his own tone. _Way to fail._

Jean opened his mouth just to snap it shut, looking more frustrated than usual.

“You know, for someone who wanted to keep things as little uncomfortable as possible, you sure suck at doing your part.”

“What do you want from me?” Jean exhaled, his eyes wide and unfocused.

Marco scoffed and set the knife he didn’t realize he'd been holding down. “What do  _I_  want? Shouldn't I be asking you that question? Seriously, Jean, I don't know what's gotten into you lately.”

“What, you're gonna evict me or something?”

“Why would you even think that? Do I really seem like that kind of person?” Marco pushed past Jean, making his way down the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going, just as long as it was away from Jean and his bizarre outbursts. He was suddenly yanked backwards by two arms around his waist. Marco looked over his shoulder to see Jean pressing his face into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry.” Jean muttered.

Marco looked away from Jean and to the floor, waiting for his unexpected anger to die off. It didn't take too long. After all, anger wasn't a natural reaction for him. “What’s going on with you?” Marco asked, his voice low and concerned.

“A lot.” He muttered.

They stayed there for a moment, Jean holding onto him as if letting go would be the end of him, and Marco tilting his head to rest on Jean's. When they finally parted, Marco grasped Jean's wrist and lead him into the kitchen. “Come on, you can atone yourself by helping me cook.”

Marco looked down at the massacred vegetables and sighed. While he continued with the rest of the undamaged food, he gave Jean the long task of washing, peeling, and dicing potatoes. They didn't say much the rest of the night, and although there was still some unresolved tension, it was a different kind of silence. The lack of words was more appreciated by both parties.

 

* * *

 

 

A flash of white light and the crack of thunder sent Marco flailing off of his bed. Rain pounded against his bedroom’s glass wall and another set of flashes cast shadows in the room through the curtains. Feeling like his heart would explode out of his throat any moment, he snatched his blanket and pillow off of the bed and ran out of his room, slamming the door behind him. The hallway was pitch black, the lightning now impossible to see, the rain and thunder muffled by the surrounding walls. Marco looked up the hall to Jean's room. He hoped he didn't wake him up, but doubted he did over the volume of the storm.

He sat in the hall and began wrapping his blanket around himself to form a safety cocoon. Exhausted, he fell over, head hitting the pillow. He listened to his own heartbeat as it fell back into its regular rhythm, not falling asleep right away, but staying in that in-between state. His sluggish mind didn't completely process the sound of a door opening or the yawn. Marco yelped when something tripped over him and threatened to crush him.

“What the fuck?!” The panicked voice shouted on top of him.

“Jean?” Marco said breathlessly, still disoriented from being jerked from his half-slumber.

Jean removed himself before scooting to the opposite side of the narrow hallway, facing Marco. He took a moment to compose himself. “What are you doing in the hallway?”

Marco didn't hide his shameful expression. The dark did that for him. “I was…camping.”

He heard Jean scoff. “Are you afraid of lightning?”

Marco bit his lower lip. “Not lightning, per say.” Jean remained silent. “More like wicked storms like this.” He said shyly.

Jean hummed in understanding. “You're just going to stay out here on the floor?”

Although Jean couldn't see it, Marco shrugged. “It's nothing new to me, really.”

Jean went quiet again and moved around. “Hold on.”

Marco felt his presence leave and saw the door down the hall open, and then Jean's silhouette moving against the flashes of light coming from his window. The door shut, shrouding them in darkness again, and he heard Jean approach again before he fumbled with something on the opposite side of the hall. After a 'click' the hallway was dimly lit, and they could actually see each other. Marco found the source to be a little boom box-shaped night lite. He looked up at Jean, who signed for him to stay put as he disappeared down the other end of the hall.

Marco stifled a laugh when Jean returned with couch cushions. He dropped them onto the floor before organizing them into two makeshift mattresses. “Hop on.”

Marco complied and rolled himself onto the cushions placed on his side of the hallway. He watched as Jean settled onto the ones next to him until the two were facing each other. Jean gazed Marco for a few seconds, eyeing his blank-coon of refuge before raising his tired eyes to Marco’s.

“I have social anxiety.”

Marco stared at Jean, unsure of what to make of his statement.

“It hits me at random times. The other night for example...I felt fine. But then the longer we sat there...I don't know. It was like there was too much going on around me all the sudden, too many obnoxious people. It's annoying as fuck how freaked out I get over nothing.”

“It's not nothing.” Marco said quietly. After all, they were both camping out in the hallway due to his irrational fear of intense thunderstorms. “Have you ever seen anyone about it?”

“I'm not going to start popping pills and become a zombie, if that’s what you mean.”

Marco shrugged, knowing he was about to offer something a little far-fetched. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how Jean managed to perform so often without an episode.  _Or maybe he has..?_ “You know...” Jean raised a brow at him. “I majored in psychology in graduate school.”

Jean's eyes narrowed, his eyes trailing off to the side in thought. He looked back to Marco, his voice low with suspicion. “Don’t you dare pull that analyzing shit on me.”

“I haven’t so far, I won’t start now. Only if and when you ask me to.”

Jean stared him down, the doubt written all over his face accentuated by the shadowy hall. “You promise that?”

Marco wiggled his arm out of the blanket and offered his pinky out to Jean. “Pinky swear.”

Jean chuckled, locking their pinkies together with a firm shake. “Why do me a favor like that? I've been a huge jerk to you.”

“Look at what you did for me.” Jean looked at the cushions and nodded. “Don't you think you deserve the same?” He shrugged. “Modesty doesn’t suit you.” Marco let out a soft laugh.

Jean turned onto his back, letting out a long and dragged out sigh. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

The two went silent, and Marco listened to the sound of Jean's steady breathing. Sleep began to nip at their brains, until a boom of thunder caused the apartment to shake. Marco sat up with a start, eyes wide as he looked at the ceiling and walls.

“We're okay.” Jean said quietly, and Marco felt a warm hand wrap around his arm. He turned to see the other boy still lying down. His eyes remained shut, face half buried in the crook of his other arm.

“How lame am I?” Marco laughed nervously, forcing back the tenseness in his gut as he lay back down.

Jean's voice cracked when he spoke. “You aren't lame, Marco. Not to me, at least. I like you.”

Marco didn't hide the small grin on his lips. “Thanks.” They went silent for a few minutes before Marco spoke up again. “Jean?” A low grown escaped the other boy's throat and Marco felt a little bad for waking him. “This might not mean much to you, but I think you're the coolest guy I've ever met.”

Jean raised his head and gave him a sleepy smirk. “You're such a dork.” He grabbed Marco's blanket and pulled them over the brunette's head. Marco let out a chuckle but didn't move the covers. “Now go to sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaymes Young - Habits of My Heart


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when life shuts one door, it opens a window. So jump.

**Chapter 3**

 

“Push me, push me!” The tiny brunette exclaimed, laughing as Marco gave him another gentle push so he could swing a little higher.

Marco looked over his shoulder, checking to see if the other two children were still on the playground. Armin and Mikasa weren’t the straying type, so as long as Eren was in sight, the other two were right behind him. Mikasa would turn her attention away from her elaborate sandcastle every few minutes, keeping an eye on Eren as if Marco might lose track of him if he even blinked. Eren jumped from the swing and tumbled forward in the grass, laughing hysterically at himself.

“Eren, you know better than to break the playground rules.” The blonde chided his best friend, giving him an equally stern look.

“That’s right, Armin.” Marco nodded, shepherding the tiny monster back to the herd.

“You guys are so boring.”

“Eren.” Mikasa grabbed his arm, yanking the brunette down beside her.  “Help me build this sandcastle.”

Marco didn’t have to do much when he babysat the trio. They kept each other in check, but still, children were children. He kneeled beside Armin, watching him fiddle with a colorful abacus.

“Want to try one?”

Armin lit up and turned to Marco, smiling ear to ear. “Yes, please!”

Marco thought for a moment. Even if the six-year old was something like a prodigy, he was still new to the contraption. “Alright, add 1467 and 7658. But, you can only use the abacus, no head calculations.”

Armin turned back to the abacus, brows furrowing as his eyes darted around it, figuring out how to solve the equation. Marco watched as he shifted the beads around, carefully sliding them up and down. Armin bit his lip, big blue eyes glancing from Marco to the abacus, and then back to Marco.”

“Nine…”  He didn’t sound completely sure of himself, but Marco gave him an encouraging nod and smile. “Nine thousand…one hundred and twenty-five.”  He stated confidently.

“That’s right!” Marco laughed, lightly rustling his hair.

“Armin’s really smart.” Eren stated, giving his friend a wide smile. “He’s gonna to fly to the moon one day.” The brunette turned to his sister, giving her the same smile, “Mikasa’s super strong, so she’s gonna move mountains.” The raven haired girl blushed, hiding her face in her oversized red scarf. It was the middle of the summer, but as long as she was comfortable, Marco didn’t question her sense of fashion.

“What will you be, Eren?”

“A Ninja President.” He said simply, as if it was obvious. Marco stared at him with big, confused eyes.

“Ay, Marco!”

The older brunette turned at the sound of his name being called by a voice too grown to be a kid. Jean was walking toward him, giving a slight wave. Marco smiled, standing up almost too enthusiastically. “Hey, Jean!” The sandy blonde looked him up and down, then at the three kids around him.

“You babysitting?”

Marco rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, they’re great.” Eren walked over, tugging at Marco’s pant leg. He picked up the small brunette, placing him on his shoulders. “This guy’s name is Eren. Eren, this is Jean.”

Eren stared at him, and Marco felt the child’s head tilt against his. “He looks like a horse.”

Jean had never looked so offended since Marco had met him. “Eren! Don’t be mean!”

“It’s fine,” Jean forced a smile, but ended up looking like he was snarling. “Kids will be kids.”

“Do you neigh?”

“ _Eren_!! That’s it, down you go.” Marco took him off of his shoulders and put the boy down, pointing a scolding finger up, “No T.V and thirty minutes of time out when we get back home. You need to think about what you said, and never say it again.” Eren’s shoulders dropped as his eyes widened with distraught. Marco didn’t miss the small snort that came from Jean.

“You can’t be mean to strangers.” Armin spoke up.

“Armin, Mikasa, would you like to meet Jean?” Armin looked slightly apprehensive. He was usually too shy to approach adults, but Mikasa took him by the hand and led him over.

Jean shifted from one foot to the other, looking slightly uncomfortable. He looked from one child to the next, then to Marco. He raised his hand in a small wave, his smile a little less scary. “H-hey there, tiny humans.” He glanced at Marco again, who gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m Jean. Nice you meet you.”

“Are you Marco’s friend?” Armin asked meekly, slightly leaning into Mikasa for cover.

To Marco’s surprise, Jean actually smiled and laughed. “Yeah, yeah I am. I’m his roommate too.”

“You can be our friend, too.” Armin smiled, quickly coming around to Jean. A little ways behind them, Eren was huffing and crossing his arms.

“Marco talks about you a lot.” Mikasa said matter-of-factly.

“Oookay, you two,” Marco forced a laugh, scooting them toward the jungle gym, “Why don’t you all test out that new slide they added?”

The two looked at each other and nodded, Mikasa retrieving her upset brother and heading toward the slide. Marco turned back to Jean, his face a tint of red. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck again. Jean smirked, leaning forward a little.

“You talk about me?”

“No!” Marco immediately covered his mouth, a rush of crimson flooding his face. “I mean, you’re my friend, so of course I’d mention you.”

“A lot sounds like more than mentioning, Marco.”

The brunette pressed his lips in a tight line, too embarrassed to deny it. Jean laughed and waved his hand for Marco to follow. They took a seat at a bench facing the playground, so they could chat and keep an eye out for the trio. Jean was in the area because his friends, Connie and Sasha, whom he often talked about, were testing out refurbished guitars and drum sets. The two were his closest friends since middle school. Marco had seen them perform together a few times at different cafes.

“Did you ever hear back from Annie?”

Jean hummed and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, she said to expect her at the next show. She doesn’t talk much.” He seemed nervous at the thought of it, and Marco nudged his shoulder with his own.

“I think you’ll do great. Everyone in that café loves you, and you know it.”

Jean smirked and nudged him back. “Awe, shoot, Marco, you’re makin’ me blush.”

They sat on the bench until the kids were finally wearing out, so Marco rounded them up to bring them back. He and Jean parted ways to meet back at the apartment that evening, as they always did. Marco waited until Jean was out of earshot to ask them to try not to embarrass him as much next time.

* * *

 

 

Jean was walking home, the sun turning the sky into a watercolor painting, as it always did in the summer time. He stopped at a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, and while he waited, he thought back on his run-in with Marco. He couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. _Forget that little brat, Eren_. _Marco talked about me_. _He talked about me ‘a lot’, as that little girl put it_. Jean felt a swelling of pride in his chest, and he took his coffee and stepped outside. People bustled around, running errands and carrying shopping bags. Jean took a sip of his coffee, slightly wincing at how hot it was, and looked up at the orange tint that the setting sun was casting on the buildings across the street. The smirk returned to him when he remembered how soon he’d be seeing Marco again. He turned, returning to his walk home, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Leaning against the wall of the coffee shop, was a girl Jean prayed he’d never see again. She had a sly smirk on her lips, looking at him through narrowed green eyes. Despite her permanent bitch face, she looked almost too glad to see him.

“Hitch.” Jean hissed her name through his teeth, instantly tensing up.

She brushed her short dirty blonde hair behind her ear and nodded her head. “Well hello, Jean. Funny running into you in this part of town.”

Jean felt the disgust written all over his face, and didn’t try to hold it back. “There’s nothing funny about it. What are you doing here?”

She let out a sharp laugh, a shrieking ring in his ears. “Oh, you know, shopping with the girls.” Jean looked around, but didn’t spot any girls she might have been referring to. “Do you live in this part of Trost now?”

Jean took a step to the side, watching her and her facial expressions. The slightest change in her face was rare, but when it was anything but snarky, it was sure to mean trouble. He was too invested in his hate for her that he didn’t answer out of respect for the public. He was almost positive that if he opened his mouth, he would scar any surrounding children for life. She took a step forward, and Jean felt a tension building in his gut.

“Oh, come on. We could be neighbors and hang out all the time like we used to. Right, Goldie?”

“ _Don’t_ call me that.” He growled through his teeth, feeling the venom latch onto every word. “What do you want, anyway?”

“Just seeing how the business is going. You are still at it, right? Is that how you afford to live up here?”

“That was a long time ago.” Jean clenched his jaw so hard he was giving himself a migraine.

“Don’t look so spiteful. We had our differences, but that’s in the past. Can’t we pleeease be friends again?” She tilted her head with a devious smirk.

“You fucked everything up.” When her smirk began to widen, Jean wanted nothing more than to dump his scorching coffee on her and watch it burn the shit out of her, and maybe disfigure her. But alas, he still had _some_ composure left.

“Jean.” She said in mock apology, “It’s not like you didn’t see it coming. All you were doing was delaying the inevitable.”

“You fucking bitch!” Jean snarled, rage dissipating what was left of his self-control. “You tore my life to shreds, yet you can stand here and even dare to look me in the eyes and smile? You’re a fucking repulsive little cunt who’s too bored and unsatisfied with her own life that has to ruin it for others.” Jean walked around her, making sure he knocked her shoulder just hard enough to knock her off balance. He turned back, a deadly warning in his eyes. “Stay the fuck out of my life.”

The smirk returned to her lips, and she shrugged. “No promises, Goldie.”

 

 

Jean felt sick to his stomach. His breathing was growing more rapid as he walked through and around people walking on the seemingly never ending sidewalk. He kept his eyes down, unable to make eye contact with anyone, let alone see anyone’s face in general. He wanted to disappear, to hide in the darkest room and lock himself away. People were walking together, chatting about little things, some laughing. Jean didn’t think his jaw could take much more before he shattered his teeth. Everything was too loud and too close and his stomach and shoulders were so tense to the point he thought they might break as well.

When he finally reached the apartment, he couldn’t find the key fast enough, his shaking hands fumbling and almost dropping them. When he was able to unlock the door, he swung it open and slammed it shut with equal force, barely even registering Marco sitting in the living room. Jean retreated to the bathroom, locking both doors before running the sink water to be as cold as possible. He splashed it on his face again and again, but it only made it harder for him to breath. He left the water running before withdrawing to the corner behind his side of the room’s door. He slid down the wall, gasping for breath, and held his knees to his chest, ducking his head down and clawing at his head.

He could hear how loud and labored his breathing and choking was despite the blasting water, but he couldn’t stop. He felt how hard he was trembling, and pressed his knees harder to his face, letting out a muffled, painful scream. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Don’t let her get under your skin._ His thoughts turned into a harsh whisper that he was chanting. There was a knock at the door, but didn’t move. He didn’t have enough control over his body to move, his muscles were like stones.

“Jean?”

Marco’s voice was soft, almost a whisper that Jean could barely hear over the water.

“Can I come in?”

Jean shook his head joltingly, unable to form words. Instead, a sob came out and he cursed himself for not being able to swallow it _. Stop, just stop, please, just pull yourself together_.

“I’ll be right here, in case you need me.”

He barely made out the sound of Marco sitting down on the other side of the door, and Jean could hear him speak through the tiny space between the door and wall.  Jean nodded in thanks, not that Marco could see him. He breathed through his nose, only it wasn’t any easier. Marco’s presence gave him some relief, but his mind would wander and the panic would come back in waves.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco sat with his back against the other side of the bathroom door. He listened for every sound Jean made to make sure he didn’t hyperventilate to the point of passing out. And every single sound he heard was breaking his heart. He’d wait as long as it took for Jean to calm down. He closed his eyes tightly, tilting his head back against the door. _Please, please be okay, Jean_. _Let me take away what’s hurting you_. He shifted every now and then, sliding his back side to side so that Jean would hear him, so that he would know he was still there.

He didn’t hear Jean’s breathing slow down until almost an hour later. He looked down and saw the light go out, and the sink stopped. He didn’t move, not wanting to rattle his friend with any sudden, loud noise. The doorknob clicked, and Marco slowly turned. The door opened, but he couldn’t see anything. He could hear Jean’s shaky breaths, though. He could tell he was still on the floor. Marco leaned forward the smallest bit, waiting for Jean to speak or move or anything. He waited a good ten minutes before scooting an inch toward the door.

“Can I come in, Jean?”

There was a long pause, then a trembling, “Yeah…”

Marco nodded and practically crawled on all fours into the bathroom. He looked around, only the light from a little ways down the hall giving him some visual. A sliver of light snuck through the door hinge, enough for him to see Jean curled up behind it. He sat in front of Jean, but didn’t touch him, as badly as he wanted to.

“I’m here.” He whispered, crouching in front of him. He held out his hand, almost grazing the other boy’s knee, but stopped just short of doing so. _No, not without his permission._ Jean’s head lifted slightly, and he reached out, snatching Marco’s in his and intertwining their fingers. His grip was strong, desperate. The brunette felt his heart drop a little more.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Jean shook his head.

“Want me to close the door?”

He nodded, so Marco turned and shut the door with his free hand, engulfing them in complete darkness. Jean was still shaking, so Marco gave it a light squeeze now and again. _I’m here_. Jean’s breathing would speed up now and again, and then return to almost normal. Sometimes he would sniffle, other times a very small whimper. _Whatever it was that triggered the attack is still replaying in his mind_. Marco shook his head, stopping himself from analyzing his friend. _Don’t break the promise_. Jean swallowed hard, catching his attention. His eyes adjusted to the dark, but it was too difficult to see anything but unshapely movements.

Jean’s breathing was suddenly right in his ear, and then there were two arms around him, knocking him back on his ass, desperately clawing at his shirt for anything solid and stable to hold onto. Marco didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, holding Jean as close to him as possible. The blonde pressed his face into Marco’s chest, and he could feel the tenseness in Jean’s shoulder. He raked his fingers through messy blonde hair and curled forward as if he could wrap a cocoon of safety around Jean. He was shaking again, but not hard and tense like before. It was breathy, and Marco could feel his tears seeping through his shirt. He held him tighter to his chest, swallowing back his own tears. _No, don’t be selfish_. _That’s the last thing he needs_.

Marco couldn’t tell how long they were in there, holding onto each other for dear life. It didn’t really matter. He didn’t care if it took him forever to calm down. When Jean lifted his head, Marco leaned back, instinctively holding Jean’s face in his hand and running his thumb across his cheek, wiping away the stream of tears. Jean let out another sob and lifted himself slightly, pressing his forehead into Marco’s shoulder.

“Marco,” he said his name so quietly, “I have to tell you something.”

The brunette paused briefly before he nodded.

“Can we go somewhere else?”

“Of course.”

 

Jean moved himself off of Marco, letting the other boy stand and take his hand, as if he knew his legs were as stable as a newborn deer. The brunette spoke to him quietly as he led them down the hall to his room. Jean looked around, not completely familiar with every detail of Marco’s room. It was mostly beige and white and… _bland_. Marco gestured to the balcony, silently asking Jean if he’d rather go out there. He nodded, and Marco slid the door and curtain open, gesturing Jean to go out first. Jean raised a brow, looking down at the mess of comforters and pillows taking up half the balcony. Marco slid the door shut behind him and noticed Jean’s questioning expression.

“What? I saw it on Pinterest and it looked nice.”

“On what?”

“It’s an app that…never mind.”

Marco chuckled and sat down, propping up the cushions against the balcony door, and patted the space next to him. Jean complied, moving the blankets and cushions around until he was comfortably looking out at the city and the clear sky above. Jean took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. He was surprised his eyes weren’t swollen completely shut Rocky Balboa style, but they were still through the ringer. He took another breath, not wanting to come clean to Marco, but he needed to. For himself. _For Marco_. It probably wouldn’t happen any time soon, but just in case his demons came back, he’d rather Marco heard it from him than anyone else. Something he wasn’t able to do before.

“I don’t know how to say this.” His hands were shaking again, and he felt Marco grab his, moving it over to his knee as he entwined their fingers again. _He’s such a loser. I love-_ he shook the thought out of his head before it could complete itself. “Remember when we first met and I told you things weren’t great between me and my parents?”

Marco nodded with a hum. “I remember.”

“I never told you why. I never wanted to tell anyone because I’d rather just forget about it.” Jean felt his stomach twist with nerves. Marco squeezed his hand, like he knew what Jean was feeling in his head and in his gut. He swallowed hard. “Things weren’t always like they are now. I love my parents. They just don’t feel that way about me like they used to.” Marco turned to Jean, but didn’t say anything. Jean ran his tongue along his teeth and tilted his head back as if gravity could hold back his tears. _Stop crying already. Just suck it up and tell him_. “I was outed by someone who I thought was my friend. I didn’t even know for sure if I was gay. I was confused about what was going on with me. I didn’t even get a chance to come out to myself. Needless to say, they didn’t take it well. They tried to…but they couldn’t look me in the eyes if they were right in front of me. I remember trying to hug my mother, and she would flinch away, like I was something repulsive.” Jean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the blankets concealing his legs. “I guess I was, in their eyes. We gradually just stopped talking all together. It was like an unspoken rule to be in different rooms and out of each other’s sight as much as possible.”

Jean started bouncing his knee, and Marco gave his hand another squeeze. “After that, things started going downhill. I went to college for graphic design, another thing they didn’t approve of. Even though they couldn’t care less about where I was or what was going on with me, they wanted me to go and become an architect or a CEO of some company, or something stupid like that. They stopped helping me with college, so I had to…” _I don’t want him to know_. He squeezed is eyes shut and fought against himself, “I had to do whatever I could. I _wanted_ to be in school. I _wanted_ to do something I loved, but it was killing me at the same time. I felt like a worthless son. I didn’t think I could be anything when the two people who were supposed to love me unconditionally just…turn their backs on me like that. I was worthless, so I sold myself. At least I’d be worth something, even for a little while.

“The first time I did it, it was horrible. I felt disgusting, and no matter how hard I scrubbed at myself, nothing helped I go away. I did it again a week later.” Marco’s hand squeezed his, but didn’t let up. Jean didn’t turn to look at him. He didn’t want to see whatever expression he was making. “I hated it every single time, but it was fast money, and a lot of it. I was able to stay in school, but my grades were dropping like crazy. If it weren’t for Connie and Sasha pulling me out of it, I wouldn’t be here right now.” Jean let out a weak laugh, lightly hitting his head against the glass door. “They fought like hell for me. I hated them and I loved them for it. They saved me.”

Jean stared at the sky for a while, almost forgetting where he was until Marco wiggled his hand. He hesitantly turned to Marco, but kept his eyes lowered. He didn’t want to look up and see… _What? Disappointment? Disgust? Fear?_

“Jean,” He wiggled their hands again, and Jean realized he hadn’t let go. “Jean, look at me for a second, please?” Jean finally tore his gaze up to meet chestnut eyes that felt like home. Marco smiled and yanked Jean into his arms. “You’re amazing, Jean. Never forget that.” The brunette mumbled into his hair. Jean closed his eyes tight, and the tears came again, only this time they were out of joy. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“Stop it,” Jean whined, unable to handle so much praise in the same minute. He tried to wiggle away, but Marco was having none of that.

The brunette partially let him escape, but cupped his face with his hand, looking at Jean like he was god’s gift. “I mean it. Don’t ever forget it.”

Jean nodded, too embarrassed to keep eye contact for too long. Marco wrapped an arm around Jean’s shoulder’s pulling him against him yet again, and sat back, staring out at the world. Jean sighed, giving in and leaning back into him. He had a feeling he’d be stuck to Marco, and he didn’t have a damn complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> I revised and *slightly* edited the first two chapters. Please don't hate me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean loves dogs, awkward moments, Chinese food, and even more awkward moments squeezed into two days.

Marco hummed to himself as he walked, the three dogs in front of him stepping in-sync with each other, occasionally tugging him forward if something caught their attention. He found it amusing how they could walk right past a mailman, a cat, even a squirrel, but a butterfly floats by and they go insane. He took the dogs through the park trail, for of a scenic route for himself than the canine companions. Some parts were small fields and openings, and then it would turn to a short area of woods, where a small waterfall ran under a bridge into streams and brooks of crystal clear water. He would be babysitting the trio later that day, making it a day of caretaking. He didn’t mind though. It was almost his version of relaxation.

Walking allowed Marco to think. Not that he didn’t when he was home, but to really think and let his mind wander to random facts, curiosities, and sometimes he would make jokes in his head. He laughed out loud a few times, getting strange looks from passerbys, but even his embarrassment couldn’t ease his chuckling from the humor of his inner dialogue. Fresh air just made him feel better all around. Marco looked down at the dogs, tongues hanging out and tails wagging. He wondered if maybe, possibly, he was part dog. He snorted at the thought, and of course a jogger passed by. He gave her a nod and smile until she passed him, biting his lip to suppress more laughter.

Then his mind wandered to Jean. He thought back to a few days ago, when they sat on his balcony. Even when it grew cold, they stayed out for hours, huddled next to each other under blankets and cushions. It took a few tries, but they made a pretty great clubhouse. Marco brought out flashlights and those king-sized Reese’s peanut buttercups. They told ghost stories, terrible jokes, and about anything and everything. At one point they were laying side by side, just their heads peeking out from the clubhouse. Marco counted four shooting stars, but Jean swore there were at least seven.

Marco hadn’t realized he was completely beaming until he stumbled over the largest dog, a Bernese mountain dog. Along with him, the other two-a border collie and a German Shepherd- were all at a halt, turned or looking over their shoulders at him. Marco furrowed his brows, the warmth in his neck rising to his face.

“What are _you_ looking at?” The dogs glanced around at each other before carrying on with their walk.

They were out of the woodsy trail when Marco’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, lighting up when Jean’s scowling face appeared on the screen. He quickly hit the answer key, holding the phone to his ear. “Hey, Jean!” his voice went up an octave when the dogs decided to lunge forward as a moth fluttered by.

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, sounding more confused than concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good. The dogs just got a little too excited for a second there.” The shepherd looked back at him, and Marco stuck his tongue out at him. They were the most judgmental dogs he’d ever come across.

“You’re at the park?”

“Yeah, I figured they needed to get out for a little bit. What’s up?”

“I’m heading back from Connie’s. Stay there, I’ll come meet you. Light and sweet?”

The dogs were getting restless, circling him and tangling their leashes around each other and his legs. When they decided to behave again, they tugged Marco, spinning him out of the leashes. He grunted, jumping out from the loops around his ankles.

“…Marco?”

“Sorry, what was that?” He heard Jean laugh through the phone.

“Light and sweet. Isn’t that how you take your, coffee?”

“Oh,” _Duh._ “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I live with you.” Jean said flatly, then paused before he continued, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m fine!” He let out a nervous laugh before cursing himself

Jean made a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh. “If you say so. See you in ten.”

The phone clicked before Marco could answer. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the black screen. Jean was on his way to meet him. Jean was coming to see him with pants smudged with dog drool. And smelling like dog drool. He walked them over to a stray tree in the main opening of the park, brushing as much dog fur as he could off before pointing an authoritative finger at them.

“Now, listen. You will sit and you will behave yourselves.” The Bernese tilted his head, while the other two glanced around, showing no sign that they were paying attention. “Toby,” The shepherd shut his mouth, turning his attention to Marco. “Shiloh,” Then the collie, “That goes for all of you. Don’t go running around like animals, and absolutely _no_ _drooling_.” Just as Marco set his rules, the dogs took off, tearing themselves from his grip. “What did I just say?!”

Marco turned to see Jean holding two cups of coffee, dogs running and jumping around him, and a huge grin on his face. He ran over to the blonde, grabbing the dogs by their collars, apologies streaming out of him.

“It’s fine, Marco,” Jean laughed, following him back under the tree. Marco tied their leashes around the tree’s base before taking the offered coffee. “I told you I love dogs, remember?” The Bernard strode around the others and plopped down in front of Jean, resting his head in his lap with a long sigh.

“I guess they like you, too.” Marco mused, sipping his coffee and humming in approval. _Maybe they can be good judges…when they feel like it_.

Jean set his cup down and ruffled the dog’s fluffy face in his hands, making a motor-boat sound. Marco hid a laugh behind his hand and Jean looked over at him, still playing with the dog’s face. “What’s his name?”

“Benny,” Marco smiled, nodding his head toward the other two dogs, occupying themselves with nipping each other’s ears and playful growls. “Then there’s Toby and Shiloh.”

“You named them?” Jean asked through a chuckle.

Marco looked at his lap, brows pulling together. “Only until they’re adopted.”

“No, no,” Jean waved as he drank his coffee, his other hand resting on Benny’s head. “They’re cute names."

 _Cute_. “Thanks, I thought so too.”

As if they were listening to the conversation, the other two dogs came barreling over, attacking their faces with kisses and nudges. Marco gave in and accompanied Jean in smothering the dogs with love. When they finally exhausted themselves, they plopped down in a furry pile of white, tan, and black, making it hard to tell where one began and the next ended.

“So,” Marco breathed, “what have you been up to?”

Jean looked up from running his fingers up and down Toby’s nose, putting the dog into a trance. “Hmm? Oh, we were just going over things for the show tomorrow night. I just wanted to make sure we were good to go. You know, with Annie there watching and all.” Toby exhaled a groan, earning an apologetic ear-scratch from Jean. Annie wasn’t the type to give anyone any leeway when it came to aspiring musicians, whether they were in her circle of friends or not. She took her business more than seriously, and she was brutal.

“It doesn’t take a dog to sense you’re nervous.” Marco gave him a smug smirk, finishing off his coffee. “I said you’d do great, and I still stand by that.”

Jean let out a sharp laugh, his eyes lowering to the paws stretched out on his leg. “You sure tend to think highly of me, Marco.”

Marco leaned forward, brows furrowed. “I do. I think you’re a strong, intelligent, funny person, and I like being around you.” Marco let out a silent, strained breath and turned his face away, scratching his hair. _Was that last part really necessary?_ He turned his gaze back, and Jean was staring at him, his lips parted and eyes a little wider. _I completely just made this awkward._ Jean cleared his throat and smiled softly, something Marco had seen him do but not so much in public.

“You never laugh at my jokes.”

“I do too.”

“When?”

Marco thought as quickly as possible, not wanting to look like a complete ass. “Like that time you put shaving cream under your nose and imitated the Monopoly man.”

Jean snorted, shaking his head. “That was hardly a joke, and it wasn’t even funny.”

“I thought it was.”

“Guys!”

They turned to see Bertholdt, giving a short wave, his other hand entwined with Reiner’s, and the tall blonde was wearing a scheming grin. Bertholdt crouched down, patting Shiloh’s head.

“Nice coincidence seeing you two here.” The tall brunette said softly, not wanting to disturb the snoozing canines. Reiner crossed his arms, still smirking. Marco turned his head the slightest bit, raising a brow. _What’s he up to?_

“What are you up to?”

Marco whipped his head to Jean, who was looking back and forth between the two. He realized his question was completely innocent, unlike Marco’s.

“Oh, you know,” Reiner looked down at the empty coffee mugs, inhaling dramatically, “romantic walk through the park after some coffee, enjoying the fresh air on this splendid day.” His eyes darted from Jean to Marco and he winked. _Reiner, don’t even._ “Same as you guys, I’m sure.”

Jean nodded with a soft hum, oblivious to the comment Reiner smoothly slipped in. Reiner grinned from ear to ear, and Marco wanted to staple his mouth shut. He glared at the tall blonde with a look that he hoped read ‘not another word’. Bertholdt noticed Marco’s growing distress and looked up at his boyfriend with a questioning glower. Reiner returned the look with a fake, innocent shrug.

“Are you two getting a dog together?” Reiner couldn’t hide the snort of laughter when Marco shot him the meanest glare he could muster. _Shut. Up._

Marco saw Jean turn to look at him, and turned to meet his gaze. He saw the faint shine in Jean’s widened bourbon eyes, but his lips just barely pressed together. He gave him a soft smile, changing to haughty when he looked back at Reiner. “Yes.” He practically heard Jean’s jaw drop.

Disappointment flashed over Reiner’s face, unable to follow up with his run on-comments. He smiled again, actually meaning it that time.

“I think it’s a good idea.” Bertholdt chimed in, playing with Benny’s limp, fluffy tail. The dog didn’t bother moving. Sleep was too important. “We were just saying how cute you two look together, buried under all of these guys.” Bertholdt’s wide eyes shot up to Marco’s, mortified by his unintentionally embarrassing comment.

Marco gave him a soft, but humiliated smile. He looked at Jean from the corner of his eye, and could see the blonde was just as red in the face as he was.

“Annie told us you’re playing tomorrow night?” _Good save, Bert._

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Jean’s voice was low. Marco nudged his shoulder, reassuring him.

“She’d be crazy not to sign you.” Reiner chimed in. “We know Annie’s taste, and you exceed that. Don’t forget, we’ve seen you perform.” Jean loosened up his tense back and shoulders, a little relieved by the encouragement. Reiner looked down at his watch, a look of urgency in his eyes. “Speak of the devil herself. We’re going to be late meeting Annie for lunch.”

Bertholdt stood to his full height, and Marco wondered how his head didn’t graze the tree’s branches. “We should go before she bites our heads off.” He laughed softly, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.” The two said their goodbyes, intertwining their hands again as they went on their way. Marco’s eyes were glued to their hands, and a hollow feeling started to open in his gut. He lowered his gaze to his lap, pushing the feeling to the back of his head.

“You want to get a dog?”

Marco turned to Jean and shrugged, trying to look as cool as possible. “Yeah, why not? I like dogs, you like dogs, dogs like us.” He started picking at the grass, “but if you don’t want to-”

“No!” Marco, along with all three dogs, jumped with surprise at Jean’s elation. “Sorry, guys.” He patted their heads one by one in apology. “I really do. I don’t want you to do that for me. I want you to want one too.”

“Jean. I just said I did.” Marco smiled sympathetically. “We can get a dog.” Marco waved a hand over the dogs as if he was performing a magic trick. “The only thing is, you have to make the choice of which one.”

Jean glanced from dog to dog, gradually looking more and more distraught. “Which one…” he said quietly. He looked back at Marco, and the brunette had never seen him so torn. “I can’t.”

Marco smiled softly. “You don’t have to today. If you’d like, you can spend more time with them.”

Jean nodded, taking the collie’s head in his hands and leaning down so they were at eye level. “Hear that, Shiloh? You all have to put up with me for a while.”

Shiloh sighed, his eyebrows shifting up and down as he tried to comprehend what the blonde was saying. Jean pressed a quick kiss to the dog’s wet nose and laughed when he dodged the long tongue that lazily lapped at him. _And he calls me a nerd._ Marco shook his head, smiling at Jean as he love-attacked each dog, to their enjoyment. A couple of hours later, it was time to take the dogs back. Jean offered to join Marco, who was more than delighted. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was the night of the show. Jean, Connie, and Sasha were backstage rehearsing and preparing. Jean was adjusting the strings on his acoustic, his hands slightly trembling. They did every time he was about to go on stage. He wasn’t so much worried about the audience. The majority of them were regulars at the packed café. He repeatedly had to stop himself from looking out to see where exactly Annie was. It was better if he couldn’t see her so he wouldn’t psych himself out too much.

“Hey, Marco!” Jean immediately lifted his head, eyes darting around to find Sasha gesturing over her shoulder toward him. “Yeah, he’s over there.”

Marco stepped around her, coming into Jean’s line of sight. _What’s he doing back here?_ He thanked her and gave Jean a small smile and a wave as he approached him. “Hi, Jean.”

Jean looked down at his guitar, then back up at Marco. “Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Uh…” _Oh, nothing just freaking the fuck out is all._ “Not much, just prepping.”

“I hope you don’t mind me coming back here.” Marco’s brows furrowed together and he looked like he just remembered something. “Is that weird? Oh, crap, I hope I’m not making you nervous.”

“No!” Jean practically vomited the word up. “No, you’re fine, Marco.” He smiled, the nerves making it falter quickly.

The brunette returned his smile, and Jean could see a hint of nervousness in his, too. “So I was wondering if you want to go out after this.”

Jean thought his heart jumped out of his chest. He put on a smug grin and lowered his voice, “Like a date?” He had to joke about it, he had to confirm that Marco had to be off-limits.

Marco’s face turned a deep shade of red. “What? No, don’t be silly.” He forced a laugh and swatted his hand around, “I mean like, I don’t know, coffee or dinner something…or not, if you don’t want to. Yeah, but no, definitely not a date. ”

Jean was a little more than disappointed, but he knew better than to expect anything else. His smirk was faltering and his lips were twitching into a frown.

“If you don’t like dinner food or coffee-no, wait, you love coffee. I knew that.”

Marco was rambling. And Jean knew too well that rambling meant nerves. Jean put his hands on Marco’s shoulders, staring at him with a face as calm as he could muster. “You can take me to dinner, Marco.”

Marco let out a sharp breath and smiled. “Okay, good. That’s good.”

“Good.” Jean repeated with a nod. He heard his name being announced, saying he, Sasha, and Connie would be up next.

“You’re hair looks really good tonight.”

Jean turned his attention back to Marco. His brows furrowed together at Marco’s random comment. “I think it always looks like this.”

Marco’s eyes were wider than usual and he made a strained laugh. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Jean stared at him with brows furrowed with suspicion. “Are you okay?” Marco opened his mouth, but Jean’s name was called. He looked over to the stairs where Sasha and Connie were heading up to the stage. “Anyway, get out there and sit where I can sing to you.” He said, the sentence coming out as sarcastic as he hoped it would.

Marco smiled, but stayed in place. “Jean.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to stop digging into my shoulders first.”

“Oh,” He didn’t realize he was still doing that. He returned his hands to his sides, “Right. Sorry.” Hoping he didn’t bruise the guy, Jean made his way on stage after his friends.

 

Most of the café was already cheering or applauding when he took his seat next to Sasha, adjusting the microphone that was placed in front of him. Jean fiddled with his guitar strings, making sure they were tuned perfectly. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at Connie. He was spinning his drumsticks in the air, and when he noticed Jean looking at him, he smiled and mouthed the words ‘calm down, its fine’. Jean nodded and turned to Sasha. The redhead was positioning her guitar in her lap, and returned his gaze with a reassuring nod. They knew how nervous he got before performing, and when they played together they would be able to help at least a little.

He took a deep breath and whispered the count, tapping his heel along with it. He took a deep breath through his nose and started strumming, Sasha playing in sync with him. Jean sang the first couple of verses solo, keeping his eyes on the back wall. It was a little tip he’d heard somewhere backstage, to look like he was making contact with the audience.  When Sasha joined in with the vocals, they exchanged glances and smiles every so often.

 

_What if our hard work ends in despair?_

_What if the road won’t take me there?_

_Oh, I wish for once, we could stay gold._

 

The next time Jean turned to Sasha, she nodded her head toward the crowd, her eyes jumping to the front few tables and back at him. He slowly followed her hinting gaze and when spotted Marco again, he nearly burst with laughter. The freckled brunette was sitting on the edge of his seat, practically bouncing like a twenty-something fan girl. _What a dork_. For a second there, Jean forgot he had another verse to sing.

_What if to love and be loved’s not enough?_

_What if I fall and can’t bear to get up?_

_Oh, I wish for once, we could stay gold._

 

Jean looked at his fellow guitarist, and she had a suggestive brow raised, a corner of her lips tugged up in as much of a smirk as she could while singing. He shot her a harmless warning glare and turned back to his biggest fan. Marco still had his eyes fixed on him, bright eyed and a beaming smile. As funny as he looked, just looking at Marco put Jean in a better mood. He forgot why he was nervous. He forgot about the crowd, about Annie, about how important the night was. Without a second thought, he went from performing to serenading.

 

_All of my dreams, they fall and form a bridge_

_Of memories where I can get back_

_All of my dreams, they fall and form a bridge_

_Of memories where I can get back to you_

 

“Jean!”

The harsh whisper snapped Jean out of it, looking over his shoulder at Connie, who was wide eyed and jerking his head toward Jean’s guitar. Jean quickly realized he wasn’t playing his guitar anymore, but Sasha kept up the tune. _Shit, shit, shit!_ Luckily the segment of the song only really needed one guitar, and next was an A Capella verse. He quickly recovered, strumming at the right moment. He looked back to Marco. His lips were parted, eyes wide, and red from neck to hairline. Bertholdt and Reiner were half as red as the brunette, however their blushed were from holding back laughter.

He didn’t know if he should be amused or empathetic for his freckled roommate. He could feel the heat rising on his face, but quickly looked away at the back of the wall again in an attempt to shake it off. The song was over a couple of verses later, and the three musicians stood and gave the crowd an appreciated smile or wave before exiting the stage. They were barely behind the curtain when Connie jumped and wrapped an arm around Jean’s neck, pulling him down.

“What was that all about, lover boy?”

Jean grimaced and pushed Connie away before his grey haired friend could rub his fist into his hair. “Knock it off. I spaced out for a second, okay?”

“So, you spaced out, and just happened to sing the lovey part whilst gawking starry eyed at your roommate?” Sasha stifled a laugh and stepped away from the stairs.

“You two exaggerate the shit out of everything, you know that?”

“Mmhm.” Connie raised an unconvinced eyebrow and hopped down the stairs. “Say what you will, lover boy, but the truth shall set you free, and the truth was written all over your face.”

Jean glared at the two of them, his face growing hot with both annoyance and embarrassment. “I swear to god, if the two of you don’t shut it, I’m going to make sure you’ll never be able to use your fingers again.”

“That wouldn’t be a very wise move if you still plan on having a career in music.”

The three turned to a short woman with blonde hair and intimidating icy blue eyes.

“Annie,” Jean’s eyes were wide and felt himself tense up, “H-hey,” He shut his mouth when her eyes travelled to each of them.

“You played well tonight.” Her eyes scanned over to Sasha and Connie, then back to him. “Kirschtein,”

At the sharp call of his name, he stood up straight, “Yes?”

“I’ll call you when I want you to come down to the studio.” She turned to walk away, but took a final glance over her shoulder. “Do _not_ miss my call.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said quickly, Connie and Sasha snickering behind him. Once Annie was out of sight, he turned to them and looked them up and down, “Let me see you talk to her straight on. You wouldn’t be laughing then.”

Sasha shrugged, “Until then, you’re the scaredy cat.”

Connie stretched his arms over his head and yawned, “Welp, there’s a buffet waiting for us at my parents’ place. Care to join?”

Jean shook his head and gestured over his shoulder. “Nah, I’ve got plans with Marco.”

“You mean your boyfriend?” Sasha covered her mouth to suppress the giggles spilling out of her.

He shot her a dirty look and lowered his voice, “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my roommate and friend.”

“Yeah, your _boy_ -friend.” Connie shrugged and picked at a nail.

Jean growled and turned away so they couldn’t see whatever expression his face was twisting into. He turned to them halfway and cleared his throat. “Alright, I’ll see you assholes later. Good job tonight.” He started for the backstage exit when he was side-tackled and lifted off his feet. “What the-Marco?!”

“I told you so!” He laughed into Jean’s shoulder.

Jean could hear the cackling from Sasha and Connie as they took the other side exit, but his attention was quickly turned back to Marco. “Y-yeah you did,” He was struggling to breathe as Marco crushed his lungs. “Marco-Marco, please loosen the grip.”

“Oh,” The brunette laughed and put Jean down and entwined his hands together. “Sorry about that.”

Jean waved it off with a short laugh, and the two went silent. The awkward moment in Jean’s performance hung over their heads, and Jean thought quick to change the subject. “So,” Jean rocked from heel to toe a couple of times before motioning to his guitar case, “I’m just gonna…get my things together.” He forced a laugh, “If I remember correctly, you offered to have dinner with me.”

“Yeah,” Marco gave him a wide smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“I will allow you to enjoy my presence on one condition.” Jean held up a finger, which Marco blinked at. “I pick what and where.”

The brunette knocked Jean’s hand down and laughed, “Deal.”

Jean put his guitar in its case and slung it over his back before draping his arm over Marco’s back, turning the brunette around to walk toward the exit. Jean hoped Marco only saw it as a friendly gesture, even if it was an excuse to be as close as possible to him. They stepped out to the streets, the cool summer night breeze ruffling their hair. Jean kept his arm around Marco’s shoulder until they had to part to get into Jean’s worn corvette.

Marco had only been in it a couple of times. Their apartment was close enough to town that cars weren’t really necessary. He had a car of his own, but Jean could see the thrill in his eyes. Jean broke it down to the theory of Marco just enjoying being in a sporty car, even if it wasn’t in top shape.

He placed his guitar in the backseat and started the car. He stole a glance at Marco, and immediately looked away when the brunette turned and made eye contact. He cleared his throat and put the car in first gear. The ride uptown was quiet, despite the radio playing at medium volume. When the car stopped, Marco looked over at Jean, clearly confused.

“How come we’re at our apartment?”

“No questions, Marco. The deal was that I picked the place.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t ask questions.”

The two got out of the car and headed up to the apartment. Jean didn’t answer, leaving Marco confused and probably growingly irritated as he followed him up the stairs. Jean brought his guitar to his room and reemerged to the kitchen table where Marco sat.

“I thought you were going to let me take you to dinner.” Marco said flatly.

Jean couldn’t help but smile. _He looks so disappointed_. Jean sat in the other chair and pulled out his phone. Marco looked on with a slight pout. His brows slightly furrowed in confusion when Jean began to speak to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

“Hey, yeah, I’d like a number 4 combo, and a number 7 combo,” he smirked when he looked over at Marco, who was radiating suspicion. “Yep, that’s for delivery.” He gave the address and hung up the phone before placing it on the table.

“You ordered from McDonald’s or something?”

Jean laughed and shook his head. “Marco, I’m appalled. I have more class than _McDonald’s_. It’s Chinese food.

Marco stared at him for a long minute and then he tilted his head to the side. “Chinese food.” He repeated flatly.

“It’s delivery.” Jean shrugged with a smile. Before Marco could say another word, he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to have a candle lit dinner in our private little abode here.”

Marco’s face went from his normal olive tone to a deep scarlet. “N-no, that’s not what I was trying to-”

“Chill out, Marco. I was kidding.” _No, I kind of wasn’t_. “Besides, restaurants are too crowded, you know?” _Also not a joke_.

Marco nodded in agreement, his eyes trailing from Jean’s arms, then slowly up to his face. Jean was staring at him, an amused smirk on his lips. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” he said quickly. 

 

* * *

 

 

Thirty minutes and a table covered in containers later, Jean and Marco were piling their plates with the assortment of foods. They moved to the living room, opting to sit on the floor and watch a movie. Jean laughed to Marco, saying how quaint it was of him to take him to dinner and a movie. Marco gave him a disapproving scoff and sat down, moving the couch cushions to the floor. Marco flickered through the channels before Jean hummed through a mouthful of food and bumped his shoulder into Marco’s.

“Let me choose the movie.”

“You chose dinner.”

“Marco, honey,”

Jean said it such a sarcastic manner, but Marco bit his tongue, keeping the blood from rushing to his cheeks. “I had _such_ an eventful night, yeah? Maybe…” Jean reached over him, sliding his fingers over Marco’s. The brunette was cherry red, too nervous to move. Jean snatched the remote from him and laughed, sitting back again, “I should choose. It’ll be a good one, I promise.”

Marco nodded, his hand tickling where Jean had touched him, and a chill rushed through him. _He was only joking. He’s my friend. He’s my roommate_. He shoved a forkful of noodles into his mouth to occupy his mind with something else. He watched Jean skim through the DVR and click on a movie.

“Cloud Atlas?”

“It’s one of my favorite movies, and once you see it, you’ll like it, too. I promise.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s got Tom Hanks in it. You can’t go wrong with Tom Hanks. He was the voice of Woody from Toy Story!” He chuckled and bumped Marco’s shoulder again. “It’s intense. Just wait and see.” He started the movie and Marco shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

 

The movie started and it was visually please. That was always a plus. Then it got confusing real quick. Every so often he would ask Jean what was going on, and every time Jean hushed and told him to watch. He stated that if I look away for even a second, I’ll miss a part. As it went on, Marco was able to follow the multiple story lines, and found himself really into the movie. He stole glances of Jean throughout the movie, watching Jean’s face change with more expressions than Marco had ever seen in one week.

He must have seen the movie too many times to count, but he still found it the same level of intriguing each time and Marco couldn’t stop smiling when he saw him like that. He was staring at Jean for a moment too long when the blonde turned to him. Jean didn’t seem to think much of it, turning back to the movie. Marco looked down at his hand, Jean’s just inches from his, the image of Berthold and Reiner holding hands in the park, completely content and carefree. He couldn’t help but feel that hole growing in his gut again. Marco could barely concentrate on the movie, is mind too busy trying to get over the twisting and turning going on inside of him. When it was over, Marco didn’t hesitate to get up and take the dishes out of the way. Jean made a groan of disapproval and leaned back on the foot of the couch, watching Marco walk into the next room.

“Don’t even try telling me you didn’t like it.”

“No, that’s not it. I thought it was great, you were right.”

“But?”

Marco looked over his shoulder, putting on a convincing smile, “But,” he paused, thinking of an excuse just as convincing as his smile, “you know how Chinese food is. You get full and half an hour later you’re ready for more.” He forced a laugh and turned back to the sink.

“Oh.” Jean’s voice was soft, and Marco could hear him shuffling around on the cushions, then his footsteps were coming up behind him, quiet enough for him to be tip-toeing.

Marco nearly jumped when Jean appeared beside him, grabbing the plate Marco had just washed out of his hand.

“You wash, I’ll dry?”

“It’s alright, Jean. I can handle a few on my own.”

“I know.” Jean said it in such a gentle way that Marco felt sick to his stomach. “You don’t have to tell me what’s really bothering you.”

Marco leaned away from Jean, physically and mentally taken back by his comment. How would he know if there was something else troubling him? Marco kept his eyes cast down, not wanting to give away anything else his face might have read.

“But I hope you can tell me someday.”

 _I can’t_. “Yeah…someday.” _I won’t. I can’t._

Jean gave him another genuine smile and again, the whole in Marco’s chest expanded and tightened at the same time. He hated it every time Jean took a dish from him and their hands made contact. He hated it every time Jean leaned over and his arm brushed against his shoulder. He kept his eyes fixed on either the running water or the backsplash on the wall. He could see Jean’s head turn to him a few times, possibly questioning why he’d suddenly gone silent, but Marco refused to let himself look at his roommate. _My roommate. My friend. That’s all he is_.

 

* * *

 

 

When they were done with the dishes, Marco mumbled a small ‘thank you’ and made up some excuse to retire to his room. Jean didn’t say anything in return, but Marco felt his eyes boring holes into his back until his door was shut. In his room, Marco let himself drop face-first onto his bed, not bothering to turn the lights on. He groaned into his pillow and rolled his face to the side, so he could at least get some oxygen. He looked out to his balcony, his eyes slowly drifting upward to the sky. He stuck his tongue out at the universe, cursing it for putting him in such an unfortunate situation. He observed each star, calling each one a nasty name and hoping they would just disappear.   _Whoever came up ‘thank your lucky starts’ was an asshole_.

There was a thump on his door, but Marco didn’t bother turning his head to see what it was. He still had a handful of stars to go. A few minutes later, the sound of a guitar strumming made his ears perk and he rolled his head the other way to look at the door. The guitar strummed a few times, struggling to find the right chords and rhythm. He heard humming along with the chords of the guitar, then Jean’s voice. “ _Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose.”_

He knew Jean was half French, but he’d never heard the blonde utter a single word in any language other than English. It sent the best kind of chills down his spine. Marco sat up in his bed, staring over at the door. He listened to a good chunk of the song, a smile slowly sliding across his lips. Jean sang softly and quietly, like he’d never played the song before, so he relied on his singing. Marco stood from his bed and stepped over to the door. He sat down on the other side of the door and listened to Jean’s secret performance.

_“And when you speak, Angels sing from above, every day words seem to turn into love songs.”_

Marco felt his eyes widen a little, staying silent as Jean played. _It’s just a song. It’s not like the words mean anything. It’s just another joke to cheer me up._ Still, he listened for a while longer, then stood up and cracked his door open. Jean went tumbling backwards into the room, guitar strewn over his chest.

“Hi.”

Marco looked down at him tilted his head to get a better look at the blonde right-side up, “Hi.”

“Did you enjoy my second serenade of the night?”

Marco’s heart jumped, and he reached up to slide his fingers through the part in his hair. “Yeah, I did.” He decided to be honest, at least about that. Jean was good at what he did after all.

Jean grinned, still on his back and looking up at Marco. “Good. Mind helping me up?”

Marco smiled and nodded, reaching his hand out for him. Jean grabbed him and yanked him down, causing him to grunt as he fell on Jean’s chest. He laughed, and Marco immediately sat up, his face turning red again. “Wait,” Jean took hold of Marco’s arm as the brunette started to stand, “stay down here a minute.”

Marco looked from Jean to his balcony, to the hallway, then back down to Jean. He let out an exasperated sigh and stayed in place. Jean moved his guitar to the hallway, then turned on his stomach and balanced his head in his hands, his elbows digging in to the plush carpet of Marco’s room. He wagged his feet back and forth, staring up at Marco. He patted the space in front of him, and Marco complied, taking on a similar position facing Jean, but he folded his arms and rested his forehead on them, not wanting to keep eye contact with him. _Not when he’s this close_.

“I don’t like seeing you like this, but I know everyone has their bad days.”

Marco sighed, his body rising and falling as he exhaled. He wanted to shout at Jean to go away, to stop being so gentle toward him but not anyone else, to give him that unfriendly scowl he seemed to give the world.

“Did something happen tonight that upset you?”

He shrugged. _It’s not just tonight, it’s every night_.

“Was it something I did?” Jean’s fingertips grazed his arm, raising the goosebumps on his skin. “I’m sorry about earlier. You know the whole… song thing.”

Marco lifted his head, blinking away the blurriness from the pressure on his closed eyes. “Don’t be sorry.” He let a small smile cross his lips before continuing, “If anything, I was flattered.”

Jean smiled and crossed his arms and rested his chin on them, getting to Marco’s level. “Then I’ll have to do it again next time.” His voice was low and husky as he gave him a cunning smirk.

Marco strained to swallow, ignoring the pang that went straight down to his groin. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t shut Jean out. He was taking up the room entrance. Still, Marco didn’t want to be further from Jean at that moment anyway.

As much as it pained him to be so close, he relished in the sight and scent and feel of everything Jean. As much as he knew it would hurt him later, Marco grazed his fingers along Jean’s arm. He hummed in response, savoring the feel of his skin.

“I think we should have a balcony night.”  Jean announced, already getting up off of the floor. Marco wanted to stay in place for a little longer, but Jean’s hands were on him again, pulling him up to his feet. “C’mon, don’t be lazy.”

Marco let out a loud groan and let him drag him out onto the balcony. Jean got to work arranging the cushions and blankets and whatever else they’d added out there into a perfect nest. He sat Marco down and reached over to a small coffee table next to the sliding door, handing Marco a set of cards.

“Mind shuffling those?”

Marco looked down at the stack of cards, then back to Jean. “What for?”

Jean gave him an indifferent stare, “To audition for America’s Got Talent, Marco, now shuffle.”

Marco stuck his tongue out behind Jean’s back and started shuffling the cards. _It’s not immature if he doesn’t see it._ “Which game are we playing?”

“Go-Fish.”

“We play that at least fifty percent of the time we come out here.”

“It’s a good game.”

“But we-”

“Shhhhhhh,” Jean cut him off, pressing his finger to Marco’s lips, “hush and play the fucking game with me.”

Marco’s eyes crossed and flickered down to the finger on his lips and back to Jean. The blonde chuckled and drew his hand back to wrap himself in a blanket burrito. Marco dealt the cards and Jean was kind enough to give him the honor of the first turn. They played card games as a buffer for venting and deep personal conversations. The easier the game, the longer they had to form what they wanted to say into actual words. Marco felt a nervous pang in his gut. Jean was going to attempt to reel out of him what was wrong. Very suitable for the name of the game.  Jean didn’t start prying until they were forty-five minutes into the game.

“Do you have any…”Jean tilted his head and squint an eye as if he was making a risky decision, “Fives?”

“Go-Fish.” Marco peered over his card hand and gave the blonde a smirk.

Jean grumbled and took a card from the deck. “So what’d you think of the movie?”

“It was really good. And _really_ long. Do you have any eights?”

“Go-Fish. It was two and a half hours of greatness. I mean, Old Georgie is pretty sick.”

Marco chuckled and took a card. “He is.”

“Which was your favorite storyline?” Jean looked down at his cards for a moment. “Do you have any twos?”

“The one with the composer.” Marco slid a two of hearts to Jean, and his eyes widened with mortification. He hoped Jean didn’t put the storyline and the card together. _Honestly, it was an accident. Maybe it’s a sign from up above…to get a hold of myself._ Jean picked up Marco’s card and paired it with one of his before putting it on his victory pile.

“Any aces? That’s a pretty good one. I like their relationship, it’s like all over the place.” Jean said as he waved his free hand around in the air. “A little like us.”

Marco remained wide-eyed, his eyes snapping up to Jean, and his fingers frozen on the card he was lifting.

 

* * *

 

Marco looked up at him, and Jean could see his surprise reflecting off of Marco’s eyes. His heart started beating out of rhythm. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that. He intended for it to be a ghost of a hint, not a cinder block dropped in the middle of the balcony. He wished it was a block. At least then it had the possibility of knocking him off the balcony and down the cliff. His investigation backfired before it even began.

Jean cleared his throat and put on a smirk, looking Marco in the eyes. “Chill out, dude. I’m not talking about the being lovers part. I meant how they’re friends, even though one is high-class and the other isn’t, and the low-class guy just happens to be into music.”

_Way to fuel the fire._

Marco hadn’t moved an inch, his doe eyes wide and blinking.

“Marco, you _do_ know what a joke is, right?”

The brunette made a half convincing laugh and sat back, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, man! I was totally messing with you just now. I know what you meant.”

Marco slid his ace over. His hand was a little shaky, and Jean felt a spark of guilt. His ‘joke’ probably made his roommate so uncomfortable. He could only hope that he covered up well enough. Jean forced a laugh and rubbed his arm.

“Well that movie cut into a chunk of my sleeping time. Call it a night?”

“Yeah,” Marco breathed in a voice that was too soft even for him, and slid the cards into one pile, “Smart thinking. I almost forgot I’m babysitting early tomorrow.”

“Babysitting demons.” Jean mused, leaned forward to collect the hill of blankets he’d engulfed himself in. A small tickle in his hair had him turning his head to see Marco standing _right there_ in front of him. Jean’s mind went blank. The brunette broke eye contact and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry,” His voice was small again, like he was underwater. “You had a fuzz on the collar of your shirt.”

“Oh,” Jean stood, barely visible under the mound of covers. “Thanks.” He had to go. Right that moment, or he would either do or say something ridiculous like he’d already done the whole day. “So I’ll see you in bed- inside! I’ll see you inside!” Jean took a few steps back toward the door. “That was another joke. I’m in a very jokey mood today hah!” _Holy shit, control yourself_.

“Um…yeah, okay,” Marco ran his hand up his collarbone to the nape of his neck as he looked out at the city.

It took all of Jean’s willpower not to jump his bones. _Abort, abort, leave the premises. Go NOW_!

“Right.” he took another step back. “I’m just gonna go in there. In my room. To bed, where I sleep.”

“That’s usually how it works, Jean.” Marco’s soft smile returned and he dropped his hand to his waist. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Jean nodded and stumbled inside, speed-walking to his room and swung the door shut. “Jesus fuck, could I have been _anymore_ awkward?” he dropped the blankets at his feet and ran his hands down his face with a long groan. Kicking the pile with frustration, he made his way to his bed and held a pillow to his face, and let out something between a scream and another loud groan, in case the first wasn’t enough. “There is _nothing_ fair about this situation.” A while later, Jean sulked across the room and grabbed the blankets, burying himself in them again as he tried to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Jean_ …”

The heap of covers grumbled and shifted slightly. Jean heard his name again threw them off, freeing himself of his cocoon.

“I’m up, I’m up.” He rasped, turning into his back and rubbing his eyes. His hands dropped to his sides and he turned his head. His room was still dark, and it was quiet. The voice was too far away to be in his room. He lay there, half listening and half falling asleep again. The next time Jean heard a noise, it wasn’t his name but a small groan.

“What the hell?”

He got out of bed and crossed his room, pressing his ear to the door. There was another groan, muffled again. Jean opened his door and wandered down the hallway. He stopped short when a gasp came from the other side of Marco’s door. It was near midnight, and Marco was usually asleep by then. Against minding his own business, he pressed his ear to the door.

“Nngh” the sound was followed by a whimper. Jean lifted his ear and looked at the door.

  _Oooh, the Chinese food._ Marco was one of those people who ate only fresh and home-made foods. _The take out is probably killing his stomach._ Jean walked to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. The least he could do was hold his hair back like a good friend, so to speak. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped when the breathing sounded more labored. Jean grimaced at the thought of Marco heaving into a trashcan, but shook it off and opened the door.

“ _Jean_!”

_Ho…ly. Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, I thought it was funny!  
> I should just rename this story 'Two Extremely Awkward Fools'.  
> Excuse me while I dish out three fics in one week :S *tosses them all over the place like I'm Oprah*
> 
> Songs: Stay Gold - First aide Kit  
> La vie en Rose - Edith Piaf/Louis Armstrong
> 
> Oh and I have a tumblr now, same pen name :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has a very active imagination and Jean is slow with his morales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally uploading this at work O.O im sorry for such a long wait!  
> I should have named this thing 'Awkward'. what even is this?

**Awkward**

Marco has a very active imagination and Jean has a conscience

 

Marco was lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. He breathed deep and exhaled audibly. He slowly went through the day, analyzing every little detail from the moment he realized his crush on his roommate had broken through that barrier and turned into the most agonizing form of love he’d ever had the displeasure of feeling. Every time Jean made any kind of physical contact with him, Marco felt like his skin would instantly catch fire, and when he pulled away, he went ice cold, and every time Jean touched him or joked with him, he wanted to bite his own tongue off.

Jean let him in where few have seen, and yet Marco offered him nothing. He was hiding from Jean. He felt like shit. Marco brought his hand up, running it through his hair then dragging down his face. Nothing Jean said or did showed any signs of mutual feelings. Jean was a great friend, and that’s all Marco would get from him. Eventually he would have to accept it.

Marco slid his hand from his neck, trailing down to run his thumb along the waistband of his boxers. He thought of the way Jean looked at him when he sang, pictured the alluring smirk he gave him, and the husky voice he used when Marco foolishly asked him out. Marco exhaled deeply through his nose and slipped his hand into his boxers, gripping his swelling cock and giving it a few strokes. He almost hated himself for how much the mere thought of Jean affected him. It wasn’t the first time.

Marco bit his lip and let out a shaky breathe, tightening his grip. Chills went down his spine as he remembered the sound of Jean’s voice when he sang in French, how smooth and light it was, how each word rolled off of his tongue. Marco bit down harder on his lip and stroked himself faster. His mind flicked a switch, changing from subtle moments with Jean, to what it would be like to actually _have_ Jean.

 

 

_Marco groaned deep in his throat and ran his tongue up Jean’s neck, his bottom lip softly grazing along the wet trail, and the blonde’s breath hitched when Marco gave a rough roll of his hips. Their hot breath mingled as their mouths met in an eager kiss. Jean wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, and Marco seized the opportunity the slither his hands down into Jean’s pants and give his ass a tight squeeze before firmly gripping his thighs and picking him up._

_Jean crossed his legs around Marco’s waist, whining deep in his throat when Marco snickered at his surprised reaction and moved their party to the kitchen. The kitchen counter was cluttered with cooking utensils and other random objects they’d set there to come back to later, which meant never. Marco carelessly shoved everything out of the way and onto the floor. He was fast to return to Jean, catching his bottom lip between his and giving a light suck that had the blonde growing impatient. Jean was already clawing to get the brunette’s shirt off, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. He ducked his head to suck and nip at freckled skin, running his hands up and down Marco’s arms and feeling the muscles there contracting from the weight of him in his arms_

_He opened his legs and Marco settled between them, hands travelling up Jean’s sides, bringing his shirt up along with them then slips it over the blonde’s head and moves his hands back down to work on getting those damn cargo pants off._

_Marco switched between nipping and sucking Jean’s lip and delving his tongue into the other’s gasping mouth. Jean keened and rutted against Marco’s hips, sliding himself closer to the edge of the counter to gain more friction. Marco’s hands wandered, memorizing every dip and curve of smooth fair skin. He broke the kiss and lowered his head, pressing his temple hard against Jean’s jaw as he lapped at the hollow spot between the blonde’s collarbone and neck, shaking his head to keep his concentration to no avail. Patience could only get one so far when you’re a hot minute away from cumming your pants._

_With a deep growl, Marco bit down on the blonde’s shoulder, prompting a cry from him, and his legs tightened around his waist. Peering over the blonde’s shoulder, Marco reached up and opened a cabinet door, quick to spot the bottle of lube and clumsily popping it open to coat his fingers._

_“You ke-” Jean’s head fell back when Marco’s slicked hand came down to his ass again, and the brunette assaulted his neck with his lips and teeth, sure to leave deep bruises, “You keep lube in the kitchen?” Jean asked breathlessly, hazy eyes watching Marco’s hand move between his thighs._

_“It’s a long story.” He replied, his mouth too occupied with drinking him in and pressing his fingertips around Jean’s entrance. The blonde shuddered with a soft sigh, but the next second he was pressing himself down and trying to get something, anything, from Marco. He slipped one finger in, his other hand gripping the nape of Jean’s neck and pulling him into a fervent kiss._

_Marco worked his finger in and out of the tight entrance, quickly adding another, then a third until Jean was a trembling mess clawing Marco’s back and fisting in his hair, desperately grabbing onto any part of him that he could in his near mindlessness. Marco pumped his fingers fast, keeping Jean’s face closest to his, kissing and biting his lips and pressing his forehead to Jean’s neck and watching see the way Jean’s hips rocked as he fucked himself on the brunette’s fingers._

_“Marco…please, Marco, I’m ready,” Jean begged, his whimpers and moans more frequent than before._

_Marco scissored his fingers a few more agonizing times before drawing them out and leaning back to take in his lover’s fucked out expression, pupils blown out and glazed over, his cheeks a flush pink and his swelling lips wet and parted as he panted. Marco could have gotten off right then and there. He unbuttoned and dropped his jeans to pool around his ankles before giving them a swift kick away. He found the lube again after swiping his hands around the counter and squeezed out a considerable amount, slicking his cock that, oh, hey, he was rock hard. He chuckled and gave himself a slow stroke as he bit into Jean’s shoulder again. Jean shivered and bent his knees to give the brunette an easier angle, gasping when Marco wrapped his arms under his knees and grabbing his ass, lifting him from the counter until he was almost on his back._

_Marco pressed the head of his cock to the entrance and gazed up at Jean with a dark lust in his eyes that had Jean squirming for him. Marco crooned against the blonde’s neck, loving the way he reacted to his every touch, and pushed himself in._

_Jean groaned against Marco’s cheek and held onto him tight as Marco bottomed out. The brunette lifted Jean off of him to the head and slid back in. “C’mon, Marco, please…”_

_“Yeah?” Marco made a slow circling motion with his hips, grazing against his prostate and nearly knocking the wind out of him. Jean had his arms back around his neck again, crossing his ankles tighter. Marco puffed a shaky sigh and pulled out, thrusting deep into the blonde. He repeated the motion, each time Jean tightened around him, and he couldn’t hold back anymore._

_Jean wiggled his hips when Marco pulled out, not amused by the sudden emptiness inside of him. Marco lowered them to the floor, Jean watching as Marco lifted him by the waist and rested his thighs on his shoulders. Marco smirked and plunged back into Jean, the blonde practically screaming out his name and gripping at the tiled floor  as Marco thrust into him, hitting that bundle of nerves every time._

_The air was thick with the crying out of their names and the slapping of skin on skin. Marco felt the heat building up and he knew he was close. He shut his eyes tight as he bucked wildly into the sobbing blonde on the floor._

_“M-Marco,” Jean barely made out his name through his raspy moans._

_Marco opened his eyes and slid his hands down from Jean’s thighs to wrap around his neglected cock and started pumping. He smirked when the blonde’s eyes crossed and shut tight, his mouth agape with a stream of silent screams. Jean’s hands flew up to Marco’s shoulders, digging into toned skin and shouting his name as he came. Marco groaned at the sight of Jean’s cock spurting onto both of them and he lost it. His head dropped and he grabbed Jean by his waist, driving into him and filling Jean as he released, his thrusts slowing as they rode out their orgasms._

Breathless, Marco collapsed back onto his bed, feeling the embarrassingly big mess on his hand and sheets. He groaned with afterglow of a great orgasm and slowly sat up, running his clean hand through his hair before wiping the other on his sheets. He needed to clean himself up ASAP. He was already used to the routine; get himself off with Jean in mind, slip into the bathroom, then back into his room without a sound. Sighing, Marco slid his feet off the bed and blinked lethargically at the dim light seeping into the room from the doorway.

_No, no, no_

Jean was standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, jaw slack, and a glass of water in his hand that was tilted and spilling. “S-sorry, I was uh…” Jean took a step back and waved his hand around behind himself to find the door handle. “I-I-I thought you were…”

“Get out!” Marco shrieked and threw his blankets over himself, soiled be damned. The panic and embarrassment was overwhelming him.

 He heard Jean stumble into the hall, but not before putting in his two cents. “Just so you know I didn’t see anyth-”

“Oh my god, Jean, _get out_!”

The door shut quickly and Marco grabbed his pillow, pushing his face into it with a raspy wail of mortification. He lifted his head and grimaced at the now wet half of its case. Oh. He still had cum on his hand. Washing his bed would be the second thing on his list. First he had to get sucked into a black hole.

Poor Jean was somewhere out there, probably traumatized and having a panic attack. Even so, he had to get himself cleaned up. After a few deep breaths, Marco freed himself from his bed’s confines and wrapped a blanket around himself, gathered a pair of clean sweatpants, and shuffled to the door.

After stalling as long as he could, he cracked his door open to look down both ends of the hall. As much as he loved playing ‘ _Post-Orgasm Humiliation’_ , he had a mission to complete. Holding the blanket close around him, Marco bolted across the hall to the bathroom. He shut the door behind himself, made sure he locked it, and dropped the blanket. He turned the shower then waited until it was steaming to step in.

That was the _worst_ experience he had ever had. He kept seeing Jean’s eyes, wide and disturbed, and wondered just how long he was standing there. Minutes of Marco standing with hot water beating down on his head passed before he hissed sharp through his teeth.

“Shit.”

* * *

 

 

Jean barely slept. He lay in bed until morning, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he should stay that way or just go out there and face whatever degree of uncomfortable was awaiting. After the shock of seeing Marco like that; writhing and bucking, lips parted as he called out his name…Just thinking about it flustered him and he shook his head to clear away the desire to go out there and just pin him down and suck his dick already. And the fact that Jean was the indirect cause for those sounds.

He slapped his hands to the sides of his face and squeezed his eyes shut, “Stop, stop, stop it, you fucking pervert.” It was definitely going to be uncomfortable.

So what, he found out Marco had a not so innocent side, but he was still Marco. Sweet, kind, selfless Marco. For all Jean knew, the previous night could have been a fluke. Maybe he hallucinated the whole thing. Jean closed his eyes and sighed, the short film of Marco thrusting into his own hand…Jean shook himself out of it. Nope. He saw it. That happened.

He rolled his head to check the time. He had work in two hours. As much as he wanted to wallow in his pool of mixed feelings for the rest of the day, he _had_ to get up. With a deep breath, Jean hauled himself up to sit on the edge of his bed, shoulders slack with apprehension. Mind swimming with questions and possible scenarios, he shuffled to his door.

The apartment was quiet, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary except the distant sound of the television wasn’t playing. Jean stepped lightly down the hall and into the empty living room, noting the equally empty kitchen. The scent of coffee drew him to the kitchen counter where his mug awaited him. He did another once-over of the rooms in sight and shrugged.

Okay, no Marco.

It wasn’t unusual for Marco to be out the door by the time Jean woke up. They never really had an even schedule until the evening, and even then it was shaky. Maybe it was going to be like any other day. Anyway, it saved him from any uncomfortable confrontation right away, but they had to see each other at some point. After all, they resided down the hall from each other. So, Jean went about his regular morning routine of coffee, an episode of one of the many cartoons Marco had gotten him into, and a cold shower before work.

 

* * *

 

 “Wow.” Bertholdt said for the millionth time.

Marco groaned loudly and ducked his head, setting his elbows on the table as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“We knew that you like him and all but damn, kid. What are you going to do?” Reiner skimmed through the stack of books Bertholdt put in front of him to keep him distracted from melting his brain with any more Angry Birds.

Marco shook his head, his face still half hidden. “I have no idea. That’s why I asked you guys to meet me here.” Marco had chosen the local library across town, far from Jean’s daily course.

“You can’t avoid him forever, Marco.” Bertholdt said sympathetically. “I can tell you this much. You two should talk about it. It sucks, but so does every other option.”

“I could move to Alaska.”

“You hate the cold.” Reiner chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll go down to the pound and get one of the dogs. He loves dogs.”

“You can’t just use a dog as a buffer. Even I know that.”

“It’s not like we aren’t getting one anyways.”

“Sounds like you two are a couple already.”

“Listen,” Bertholdt said gently, “Just sit him down and talk. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can get it out of the way and put it behind you.”

“More like behind Jean. Ow!” Reiner grunted when his boyfriend kicked him under the table.

With an exaggerated sigh, Marco raised his head and rested his chin in his hand, the other absentmindedly tracing circles on the table. “I don’t know how to _begin_ something like that. ‘Hey, I know what you saw last night was really weird, but let’s just pretend it never happened’.”

Bertholdt smiled and shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t take that route. Just let it happen naturally. You never know what might come out of it.”

Marco’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Like what?”

Reiner and Bertholdt exchanged equally confused glances before Reiner took his turn to sigh and roll his eyes. “Like Bert said, you never know.”

“I really don’t want to do this.”

The boyfriends across from him couldn’t hide the empathy in their eyes. After all, there was only so much advice they could give. The table suddenly vibrated and Marco jumped in his chair, grabbing his phone and tossing it down the closest isle. He immediately regretted it, as it was only a reminder notification and not Jean making his daily phone call. Come to think of it, Jean usually would have called by then.

“What the hell was that?” Reiner glanced over to see where it landed.

“I don’t know I-” Marco’s fingers were in his hair again and he took a breath. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

“A little.” Bertholdt said flatly. He huffed and stood from the table, gathering the books in his arms. “Go pick up your phone. I have one last idea.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Reiner asked, leaning back to look up at his boyfriend.

 

 

 

Marco stared at his feet as he shuffled them in the grass. He didn’t know what he should have expected, but it wasn’t in the middle of a public park. “I don’t see how this is going to help.”

“There’s no harm in trying.” Bertholdt scoffed and put a strict finger under Marco’s chin, lifting the other brunette’s gaze to the grinning Reiner in front of him. Bertholdt stepped back and gestured for Marco to start.

Marco inhaled deeply and tried to swallow some of his pride. “Jean,”

“Marco,”

“About last night. I-” Marco covered his face and turned away. His face was burning up from the embarrassment of using Reiner as practice plus the thought of what he would say to Jean. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes,” Bertholdt grabbed his shoulders and turned him back around. “You can.”

“Si, se puede!” Reiner cheered, earning a glare from both brunettes.

“Back into character.” Bertholdt ordered his boyfriend, and Reiner’s impression of Jean’s scowl appeared. Though, he did look more like he was constipated. At least _someone_ was getting some humor out of the horrible situation.

Marco shook his shoulders to loosen up then cleared his throat. “S-so, Jean. About last night. I know it must have been extremely, uh, weird for you, a-and I would completely understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Keep going.” The taller brunette whispered.

“Right, right.” Marco mumbled, momentarily glancing at the ground. “But I think th-that as roommates, we should talk about it and see where we go from there.”

“Okay, what about it?” While Reiner’s facial expression wasn’t great, or good for that matter, his attitude was pretty close.

“Well…it didn’t- I wasn’t- So I have this friend with a similar name and-”

“Cut!” Bertholdt said in a tone louder than usual and cocked an eyebrow. “What’s with the ridiculous excuse? Lying your way out of it wasn’t part of what we talked about, Marco. You’re supposed to tell him how you truly feel, remember?”

“Won’t that make things worse?”

“He walked in on you jacking off. _To him_. I think you’re done for this lifetime.” Reiner snickered. “Just tell him.”

“It’s not that easy!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. Neither gave him the reaction he wanted, forcing him to continue, his words started slow but quickly picked up speed. “Fine. Jean, I really like you, like, more than friends or roommates. I’ve liked you for a while now and I didn’t want to creep you out, but I guess that’s what happened anyways on a count of what you saw, which by the way I owe you a huge apology, and I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, but…Reiner, this is hard enough without you giggling.”

“I’m sorry, but if it’s any consolation, he’d have to be the biggest asshole to turn down that face.” Marco pursed his lips and exhaled sharply through his nose with a disappointment equivalent to Bertholdt’s frown. “Maybe the dog thing isn’t such a bad idea.”

“No,” Marco shook his head then gave them an appreciative smile. It was time to admit that he would have to take Bertholdt’s original piece of advice. “I think you guys were right about letting it happen on its own. Thank you for helping me out with all of this.”

“I will take my apology in the form of a shot, thank you very much.” Reiner said with a raised hand.

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“And it’s five o’clock somewhere, which means we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Marco and Bertholdt exchanged a fed up glance and followed the blonde’s lead to the nearest pub. Maybe it would put off the inevitable for a little longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Jean jumped at the sound of wood clanking almost destructively against metal. He spun around to give Connie a deadly glare while the other growled with frustration and stood up, stilling the tambourine between his fingers. “You haven’t played like shit since like sophomore year of high school and your attitude stinks just as bad. What’s going on with you, man?”

“My playing is just fine.” Jean pressing his lips together and stared down at his guitar then began fiddling with the strings, mumbling, “I just need to tune it or something.”

“Speaking of tuning, let’s turn the dial over to your love life. Any progress with Marco after your little date?” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

Jean’s head jerked up and he’d never made a faster one-eighty, his face instantly flushed. “It was not a date!”

“Calm down dude. We know for a fact you aren’t suave.” Connie looked him up and down. “So he liked the show, huh?”

“ _Yes_ , he did.”

“He liked the song?”

Jean sighed, “Yeah.”

“Even that one part?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.” Jean’s brain stopped and his hands came up by his sides. “I-I mean, we’re roommates, you know? Friends.”

“Jean, I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to deny it. We know you enough to see how happy you are with-I mean, _around_ him, even with your resting bitch face syndrome.” Sasha spoke in a understanding, motherly tone.

“I never sai-“

“He’s good for you, Jean.” Connie cut him off in the same understanding tone that made Jean stop shouting.

Jean was quiet for a moment and looked at the empty back corner of the studio basement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so… _different_ from when you met him. Good different. You’ve been smiling more and sometimes you even act nice.” Sasha pretended to be grossed out at the last part.

“I’m gonna have to agree.” Connie shrugged and glanced at Sasha, that odd ‘sympathetic friend’ look about him. “He makes you better. Like how you used to be.”

Jean’s brows pulled down into a frown. Not necessarily an angered frown, but an agitated one. “I’m not talking about this. It’s late and I have work tomorrow. See you guys later.” Jean removed the guitar strap from around his neck and set it in its case. In a swift movement, the case was slung over his shoulder and he was up the stairs and out the door.

“Jean-” Connie and Sasha called in unison, followed by the sound of the front door shutting.                                                                                                                                      

 

Jean shut his car door and started the engine, but didn’t start driving. He stared down at the steering wheel for a while, thinking over Sasha and Connie’s words.

Like he used to be? Jean had long admitted to himself that he was kind of a dick from day one, and his perception of the world had only soured since those years in college. Besides, his standard harsh expression deflected people from wanting to get close, and that was fine because Jean never wanted them to. He didn’t want that ever again.

Until Marco happened.

Jean put his thoughts on hold for a moment when he noticed he hadn’t moved yet and got to driving home. Purely out of habit, Jean wondered if Marco was already there lounging on the couch and surfing the internet or maybe doing some ‘intense’ studying of recipes he’d always wanted to try.

Jean could barely reprocess the spreading anxiety of the certain run-in they’d have, another realization hit him. Marco knew about his past. He knew the things he’d done. He took it better than Jean could have ever imagined, going as far as praising him for the person he was.

But what if Marco harbored _other_ thoughts about him? What if all of those kind words he’d said were purely out of pity for him? He remembered when people in his dorm found out. The ones who didn’t taunt him were kind to his face and laughed behind his back. One didn’t feel any worse than the other. Would Marco be like one of them, saying all of those supportive things but also thinking he was scum? That he was permanently damaged?

No, he was overthinking. Marco was honest. He told Jean how he felt about him after he spilled his history to him and he didn’t act any different toward him, other than the last day.

Before he knew it, Jean had pulled up to the apartment. He looked up to see that there were no lights on, and still his nerves were starting. Exhausted by his brain’s back and forth emotional turmoil, Jean sighed heavily and shut off the engine. He was sure if he had one more near-panic attack his heart would stop, so he took another deep breath and headed up the stairs.

He slowly opened the door and stepped inside. As he expected, the apartment was calm. The television was at a low volume, hardly traveling to where he stood. Jean slipped his shoes off and set his guitar down by the door before taking slow and quiet steps on the path to his room. He glanced around the living room quick, the pictures on the television lighting up the room, and didn’t detect anyone was in there. Maybe Marco heard his car and made a run for it.

A door in the hall where their bedrooms were shut and Jean froze when he heard footsteps headed his way. Marco stepped out from the darker shadows, rubbing his eye and staring at Jean blankly with the other. His hand dropped and he continued his strange owl-like gawking. Marco tilted his head to look at the T.V. for a moment then go back to Jean. “ _Heeeyyy_ , Jean.” His voice croaked and he gave him a lopsided grin.

“Hey.” Jean gave him a hesitant wave.

“I _think_ I have sm-smuthing to…to smuthing to tell you with.”

“What?” Jean cocked a brow and looked Marco over. His eyelids were a little heavy and he had a pretty stupid smile on his face. “Marco, are you drunk?”

Marco giggled and covered his mouth, leaning roughly against the wall. “Maybe.”

“How’d you get home?”

“Bert and Rernie. Rernie. _Reiner_.”

Jean nodded and let his shoulders relax some. At least he got there safely. Marco almost lost his balance as he straightened up on his feet and took a few steps toward Jean, then sat on the edge of the closest end of the living room couch. His glassy eyes were somehow able to stay focused on Jean, and the blonde could see more clearly how wide his pupils were as well as the slight tint in his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you drank.” Jean felt the corner of his mouth lift into and amused grin.

“I don’t.” Marco smiled wider as he watched Jean walk over to the couch and sit, only to frown when he took his seat was on the other end. “M’ not good at games.”

Jean snickered and crossed his arms. “Drinking games? Who do you know who plays drinking games?”

“I have friends, Jean Kreshen.” Marco whispered harshly but his faltering tone wouldn’t let Jean take him seriously. He was absolutely toasted. “ _I_ ,” Marco sprawled his hand on his chest, “do things. I know people.”

“This is starting to sound like a mafia scene.” Jean chuckled. Talking about the previous night with Marco drunk was probably better than if he was sober, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. Jean sighed loudly and approached Marco, offering his hand to help him up. “C’mon. You need to drink some water and sleep this off.”

Marco looked down at his open palm and reached up, easily sliding his fingers between Jean’s before entwining them. Not expecting that, Jean put it off as a tipsy mishap and stepped back to haul brunette up. Marco didn’t budge. Instead, his brows knit in a pout and he squeezed Jean’s hand, pulling him closer. “We need to talk.”

Oh, no. Of course he _had_ to remember. “In the morning, Marco.”

“Noooo,” He got up and stepped toe to toe with Jean, his dark eyes gazing down at his and a tired but playful smirk on his lips. “I wanna now.”

Jean’s face was slowly heating up. Marco was only a couple of inches away, and he could see all of the variations of freckles splattered across his face. He was close enough to feel the warmth of his breath and hear the low rumble in his throat when he laughed. Marco’s hands moved from Jean’s hands up to cup his jaw, sliding one to the nape of his neck. Jean didn’t make any move of protest. If he was going to being honest with himself, he wanted to see where Marco was going with it. He was slightly amused by Marco’s relaxed, careless state.

If he could just look away from his eyes for a second. “We should talk in the morning. You don’t want to say anything you’ll regret, yeah?”

“K. I won’t talk then.” Marco hummed with a low laugh, the hand rubbing at the nape of Jean’s neck shifting to rake his fingers through blonde hair while he ran his thumb across his cheekbone with his other hand. “I’ll just,”

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but a low and stuttered gasp broke through when Marco yanked Jean into him and crushed their lips together. He was rough and sloppy about it, and it was already making Jean dizzy. He couldn’t count how many times he’d dreamt about a moment like this. He tasted sweet like tequila and it tingled on his lips. Jean wrapped his arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along the other’s mouth to taste more of him.

Marco tightened his hold on Jean by coaxing his head to the side, tugging his hair and keeping him in place by wrapping his arm around the blonde’s waist. Marco trailed wet and messy kisses up to the sensitive skin by his jaw and snickered against Jean’s skin when he felt the shiver run through him. It only drove him to keep going, to hear more of those soft sounds, and Jean was letting him.

He wanted it, god did he want it. He was shaking and his hands moved to each of Marco’s, stuck between letting it go on or prying him off there, but it was _so good_. He rolled his hips to meet Marco’s and groaned when Marco started nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin behind his ear lobe. Jean shut his eyes and let Marco take control while he tried to think of a valid reason to choose the latter. Not the best choice since his brain was functioning as if he was the drunken one.

Marco was tired of their slow grinding. He grabbed Jean roughly by the ass and switched their positions and his gasp was cut off when Marco crushed their lips together. Marco laughed quietly and lowered Jean onto the cushions and smirked at the panting blonde beneath him. His hands slid down to play his fingers along the hem of his shirt.

“Marco,” Jean panted, not breaking eye contact. “You w-wanted to talk, remember?”

“Mm,” Marco hummed, waiting for Jean’s nod of approval before helping the blonde shimmy out of his shirt and tossing it across the living room. “Want you, Jean.” He leaned down until he was chest to chest with Jean to nip at his bottom lip. “I’ve wanted you for a while. I like you a lot, Jean. You saw.”

“I didn’t see anyth-” Jean groaned low when Marco cut him off, kissing him with more hunger than last time.

“You saw.” Marco said again, one hand sliding down to grab Jean’s ass. His other hand dipped down to slowly and roughly palmed the blonde’s growing bulge, and Jean was losing it again, his breath hitched and coming harsh. “Do you want me?”

Jean gasped and his eyes shot open. Did he just? Of course Jean wanted him. He wanted that and so much more from the brunette. He didn’t think anything would actually happen though, and happening and dreaming are two completely different things.

Marco dipped down and left a trail of sweet kisses from his neck to his shoulder, then down his chest until he caught one of Jean’s nipples between his teeth. Jean’s breath stopped, and when he looked down, Marco was already staring up at him with dark, hazy eyes and a devious grin on his lips.

Jean bit his lip, holding back a whine so he could try to speak, “God yes, I want you s-so bad, Marco. But I don’t want t-to take advantage, ah!”

He choked out a whimper when Marco pressed his lips around his nipple and laved his tongue across the sensitive skin followed by a hard suck. Jean arched and his hands went to one of Marco’s shoulders and into his hair. His heartbeat quickened as Marco’s fingers rubbed across his other nipple and pinched lightly, making Jean’s breathing awfully difficult to keep even.

Moving down between the blonde’s legs, Marco slid his jeans down to his ankles and licked his lips before leaning forward, and pressed his face to Jean’s crotch to take a deep breath. Jean gasped in surprise but couldn’t stop his hips from almost completely bucking. He could feel Marco alternating between sucking and whispering praises into his inner thigh. He let his head drop back onto the mattress and tried concentrating on not getting too lost.

“I think I can take care of myself.” Marco hummed and dragged his lips further up Jean’s thigh to the junction between his leg and hip, his boxers being pushed up along the way. Marco pulled away again and hooked his fingers around Jean’s boxers, licking his lips.

Jean’s head was swimming, but his conscious returned and pulled him right up to the surface. He sat up and put his hands on Marco’s shoulders to coax him to sit back. Marco frowned in confusion and sat back on his heels.

“I-I can’t, Marco.” Jean watched the other’s eyes open wide and drop to the floor. He wanted to give Marco whatever he could ask so he’d never have to see Marco upset. “Not like this. I want you, trust me when I say I want you, but I can’t unless you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I am one hundred persh-percent sure.” Marco mumbled and wavered as he got to his feet. Too uncoordinated to leave the room, he sat on the edge of the couch and sighed.

Jean sat up and couldn’t help but to smirk. “I think whatever you drank was one hundred percent.” He chuckled when a low groan left Marco’s mouth and stood up. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Marco barely formed a response before Jean sprinted down the hall. He was back in seconds, a bottle of water at hand. He set it in Marco’s lap and returned to the spot beside him. “So,”

“So,” Marco repeated, taking a long chug of water and setting it in his lap again. The brunette sighed again and bit his lip before looking back at Jean. He scratched the nape of his neck and the embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I really messed up.”

Jean gave him a genuinely warm smile and nudged Marco’s shoulder with his own. “You didn’t mess up! We both got something out of it, right?”

“Blue balls?” He laughed through a yawn.

Jean snickered and shook his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of...well,” It was Jean’s turn to look embarrassed so he stared up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. “we feel the same way about each other.”

A spike of dread hit Jean straight in the chest and he panicked that Marco might have a different point of view. Just as he started to criticize his self, the brunette yawned again and leaned sideways, resting his head on Jean’s shoulder.

“Mm, we do.”

An overwhelming flutter in his chest instantly demolished his fear. Jean ducked his head to press his forehead against Marco’s temple. He hadn’t felt so happy in a long time.


End file.
